


Long Live the Queen

by PlutotheAlien



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: F/M, Feral Behavior, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-13 02:08:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 69,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21486568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlutotheAlien/pseuds/PlutotheAlien
Summary: It was believed that all predacons had died in the explosion, but one specimen was being studied further in a separate lab."A Predaqueen for a Predaking...."11/18/19: IMPORTANT NEWS, PLEASE READ.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 60





	1. Update Page

No need to adjust your monitors or restart your phone. Your eyes are not playing tricks on you, you're not going insane and maybe you are sleep deprived, but not to this point.

Hi, y'all! If you don't know me, I'm Pluto the Alien and I am the new owner of this fic! If you've been following the news, you must know that SoftRequiem cannot continue this story for reasons that are entirely theirs. To avoid deleting it (and breaking our hearts), they put it up for adoption and I rushed to take it like people rush to the store on Black Friday.

So what will happen next? Well I'm the author, it's now my story, add it all together. Yes, I am continuing it (that's why I took it before anyone could, obviously.) More importantly, I am not changing anything; I'm following SoftRequiem's main plot points (and adding my own juice as I go because I have permission, haha!) Yes, I have my own writing style, my own ways of doing things, but I want to honour SoftRequiem's work as much as I can. They left their work in my hands and I am honoured they did, so I will do everything in my power to continue Long Live the Queen (LLTQ) the way they saw it would.

From now on, LLTQ will continue here on my profile. I will gradually add here the previous chapters written by SoftRequiem one by one as I finish reading them to make them fresh in my mind, but to also make sure you guys don't have to search for the original one. All chapters written by SoftRequiem will remain untouched. 

Will there be a new chapter out in 2019? Absolutely not. University does not like it when you don't pay attention to it and my winter break is shorter than college's winter break. One thing for sure, I'll use this time to read and upgrade this here so it's all ready for the new chapters. Will it be in early 2020? Extremely doubtful. I'd love if it were the case but I don't wish for anyone to have their expectations broken.

There is a high probability that you'll see me update my other fic (Custody) or even add a new one on AO3 (even though it's super doubtful.) If that happens, don't get mad. LLTQ is still here but, you know, going through a different kind of work that demands its own VIP attention.

Don't hate SoftRequiem. Don't hate me either lol. Bottom line is LLTQ is here to stay!

Update 02/11/20: Little update here! As you saw, I added the previous chapters written by SoftRequiem for you (but mostly me) to read or read again. I won't be able to update this story until at least summer 2020 if work isn't too heavy by then. Turns out university is not as easy as college and time doesn't fly there, it teleports. I will try to write a new chapter for LLTQ and have it posted around July or August. If it takes longer (because writer's block is always around the corner) so be it, but I will work hard, I promise. My writing mojo recently came back, I hope it'll stay.

Stay tuned and thank you for the support!


	2. Born in Fire

_AND SHOCKWAVE SCANS THROUGH THE DAMAGED TANKS that once held the evolving predacons that would have become his lords army. _One scan and there was less than a percentage chance of something surviving, and therefore there was no effort wasted on trying to salvage anything from the lab. If the sudden surge of heat didn't send the new frames into shock, the explosion and the debris would have finished them off. They would salvage what equipment could be repaired, but there would be nothing else.

However, Shockwave doesn't put any CPU power towards the army, his current concern lays with a smaller lab that was attached by a tunnel deeper into the mountain side. Where he was growing a different predacon to collect data on a set of predacon bones that perplexed scientists during the golden age.

Through the ages, the set of fragmented bones were studied, put through endless testing but very little data could be extracted through these tests. The only bones found were teeth, a section of the lower left jaw and what many believed to either be a spark chamber, or an ignition chamber. The debate of what exactly this was had been going on since, and before its discovery. Of course, others like it had been found, but the key difference that made this discovery so fascinating was its sheer size.

It was larger, far larger than anything else that had been found before it.

It was discovered by an archaeologist in training, his first few days in the field when his scanners picked up something in the Cybertronian badlands. The highlight of his career, he devoted all of his time to studying what it was, and what it could have looked like when it ruled a primitive Cybertron.

No other bones were discovered in the site, so he used previously found bones to compare it with. And in his logs (that could be found) he hypothesized that it was a mutated breed of the _Acutuc Filum Lacerta_ branch, or commonly known as the Sharp Wire Lizard. The jaw comparison was almost identical, and so had been the teeth with the variation of proportion. The new discovery was only larger.

But then came to question as to _why_ it had been so large. _Why_ did a creature, who was _the_ dominating predator during its time, need to become _larger_? It was the only specimen found, and so no other fossils could aid in answering these questions.

Until Shockwave was able to obtain these fossils for his own research.

He created the secondary lab to further his research, to isolate the one predacon to see the difference between its brethren and watch it grow and evolve. Even during its early stages, comparing it to the stats of Predaking, this one was already larger, and potentially more dangerous. There was no question in its power, and Shockwave wanted more definitive data before presenting it to his Lord. He would dare not waste his Lord's time with theories he had yet to develop.

The first major difference was the aforementioned size. The second predacon in the incubation chamber, only fourteen cycles old, had be place in a larger vat where as in Predaking, had been in the first chamber for almost thirty cycles. Shockwave estimated that, when fully evolved, it would have been almost twice the weight of Predaking. Wings were broad, wider, not only to carry its weight as it flew but they were not the wing structure for swift maneuvers. It needed its wings to fly over long distances while conserving energy.

Its plating made the beast heavier, during the age of its reign, the apex predacon was widely known to have been a violent species. Many bones had been found damaged or broken from prehistoric battles. They fought among themselves for territory and precious limited resources. This was a species built to fight, to take serious damage and survive its battles time and again.

The ignition chamber, the main source of the firepower of the Predacon species, had larger air intakes, but the tubes feeding the fire would narrow further in. The fire of this specimen was hotter.

Massive pumps, cables that were as thick as his leg ran through its frame and limbs. Where Predaking was built for speed and agility, this specimen was built for strength and power.

This leviathan was a literal, walking war machine. _But why?_ Why was _this_ specimen so different compared to Predaking?

He discovers his answer upon reading a theory of a nameless bot whose name could not be found in the records he had. This theory states that the Predacon apex predator species was split in genders, a sexual dimorphism. Using examples of others, somewhat similar, smaller species, he believes that the _gender _determined why this specimen was so large.

Within his hypothesis, he had catalog every bone measurement and compared it to the 'male' and defined the 'mutant' as a _female_.

He makes his argument solid. The female's life cycle was different from the male. It was more aggressive, it needed to feed not only itself but its young and it needed to defend its young. From an early age, it was often seen, in other related species, the female was on the front lines of survival. He argues, that the female _had_ to be larger. The females were the only ones that would give life to the next generation and ensured the survival of their species. These specimens were found with a set number of unfertilized eggs inside their gestation chambers and the instinctual drive to pass on their genes would have been a real concern to the female of the species.

Nature ensured, through millions of years of evolution and adaptation, that the female would have a fighting chance so that their young would survive.

The Sharp Wire species, he believes, would have been devoted parents, and partnered with only a single mate in their lifetime. There would be a courting period, in which the male must prove himself capable and worthy of the females time and attentions. How this was done, he believes during the mating season, the male would fight over the females. Perhaps there was a dance or some sort of display the male had to perform for the female to communicate his intent of reproduction and not killing.

The CPU of the female was larger, more input was placed in nasal receptors than the male. He also finds something found in the female that the male lacked, it was small, about the size of his clenched fist just behind the CPU that connected to the increased nasal receptors. He doesn't know what its for.

The document goes further into the theory of its behaviors. The author states that the Sharp Wire Predacon weren't very social with each other outside of its mating season. The last thing a male would want to encounter was a female protecting her territory or her nest. She wouldn't hesitate to accept his challenge and more often than not, she would win due to her size and strength advantage.

But this still leaves questions that Shockwave demands to be answered.

He created the secondary lab to further his research, to isolate the one predacon to see the difference between its brethren and watch it grow and evolve. Even during its early stages, comparing it to the stats of Predaking, this one was already larger, and potentially more dangerous. There was no question in its power, and Shockwave wanted more definitive data before presenting it to his Lord. He would dare not waste his Lord's time with theories he had yet to develop.

Everything about the predacon was larger. It's basic structure, its wing span, its weight, and thickness of armor made Predaking look almost small had it been given to chance to fully evolve.

His Lord and his creation stand beside him, over looking at what was once the secondary lab, and against the calculated odds, the damage to this lab had not been as severe as the main lab. The structure was still sound, only minor damage to the equipment and tank upon the first scans.

“Keeping secrets are we?” His Lords tone is neutral, and Shockwave takes not that he is neither pleased nor displeased.

“Forgive me, my Lord Megatron, it was not my intention to keep this a secret until more data could be collected. I believed it illogical until it was definitive that the specimen would survive.”

“No harm done Shockwave, so tell me, what would need a tank this large?”

Shockwave reflects the data from the Golden Age on a data pad to his Lord. “The fossils were found deep in the Cybertron Badlands, and only one had been found. Similar to the same breed as Predaking, however, it was placed in a heavier weight class due to its sheer size. Most believed it to be a specimen with mutated CNA that resulted in its large size and not something that had been created naturally. An isolated incident, but my studies have shown no mutated foundations to the CNA and I have concluded that its size, is in fact, natural.”

“A larger breed? How fascinating, but tell me this Shockwave, where is its body?”

“I am still investigating my Lord, however, upon first scans there are signs of a struggle from within the tank. The probability is astoundingly low, but there is a percentage chance that it had survived and escaped.”

His creation, he watches with a stern single optics, crouches low and kneads the burnt ground with his talons. The folded wing struts on his back click with his agitation, he opens his mouth and inhales the burnt-sweetness of the tanks gestational fluids and what other scent that lies beneath. The clear indents of massive clawed peds could not be over looked.

Cut clear evidence that the predacon inside had _survived_ and got away from the fire. Shockwave continues. “The tracks lead down corridor B-3, and there is further evidence that it had access to its primary weapons system from the chard remains of the tunnel. I believe it dug its way out before the tunnel was completely buried. At this moment, I have several remote scanners combing through the immediate area, they have been reporting signs of the feral predacon outside of the base.”

Megatron watches as Predaking leans forward to take in the scent directly from the print. “So you say we have a wayward predacon on the loose?”

“If the predacon has survived outside elements and adapted its systems to the atmosphere outside the gestational chamber, then yes, there is indeed a feral predacon loose on the planet.”

Predaking stands up, facing his creator, “Where could she have gone?”

Megatron's optics narrow, “She?”

“My Lord, Predaking is correct upon the term 'she'. The predacon I was gestating here is a female of his species. I was investigating a outlier set of fossils, far larger than the ones I had derived for Predaking. I had, once, believed them to be a mutant set, but my research points towards more natural causes. My Lord, though it is not my place, I wish to state reason for caution. The female Predacon is a force of nature, she will be feral, and should she and Predaking fight, my calculations favor the female in battle. I would not advise a frontal assault of recapture.”

“But _where_ could she have gone Shockwave?” Predaking presses, his struts clicking more and more, talons scrapping together as his actions became more animated. “Where could she possibly go?”

Shockwave takes a moment to gather possible data, points of interest and under a few seconds he removes possibilities to favor those more probable. “I assume the female is operating on pure instinct. She will first want to find a location she can defend and hide. Somewhere high above the ground. A mountain side or a sheer cliff side. It is well documented that they will dug out a place to nest. After she has created such a location, she will then hunt for fuel. How, precisely this species hunts, I have yet to discover.”

Predaking takes in all the information in silence. Amber optics wide and his plating was tight against his frame. “My Lord,” he turns his helm towards the silver mech, “Allow me to bring her home. I fear that if the Autobots find her first that they will enslave her, they'll...”

“Calm yourself Predaking,” Megatron places a servo upon his shoulder, “You have my blessings to bring our wayward on back where she belongs.”

  
Predaking leaves without a moments hesitation, exiting the remains of the mountain and taking flight and soon he was but a dot in the distance. Megatron places his hands behind him, looking forward and regarding Shockwave at the corner of his optics.

“Shockwave, tell me more of this new _beast_... What power does it have?”

“...the female is powerful, my Lord, Predaking will surely die is she wishes it. I believe her power is second only to you.”

“What are the chances of a pacification program in place? Would she obey her masters?”

“I must assume that her processors work in a higher function than Predaking, with some adjustments and further study upon the subjects CPU, a pacification program would have her obey.”

Megatron growls in amusement. “Then surely she would be a great tool for our cause.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


AND PREDAKING KNOWS that a scent cannot be tracked in the air, the currents wipe it clean, nothing remains to be tracked. However, he scans the ground for all possible locations where she would build a nest. The desert is a prime location. Stable temperatures for their massive frames, the weather remains almost constant and the air and skies are clean and clear. Miles from the mountains, he comes across a section of desert where the rocks go deep into the earth, perhaps in one point in history it might have been the bottom of an ocean trench, but now it served as a deep hiding place, a perfect location to nest.

He marks it on his hud as a possibility. It would take him several days to explore the channels, they branch off into several other paths and he must keep in mind that she would likely dig a nest high in the rock walls.

At this moment, what little he has explored, appear untouched.

He was then about to depart, has he not looked back and... _oh._

Around the bend, he finds something.

A pile of freshly disturbed soil.

He crawls close, his wings raised on his back to detect any and all disturbances in the air and he monitors any sound in the immediate area. The dirt was a different color than the soil it rested upon, but where did it come from? There were no holes in the ground, so Predaking tilted his helm and lifted his neck, and looked _up._

True enough, there was a pocket in the wall, a few meters above his helm, he listens closely. Silence.

He digs his talons into the rock face to climb, and it was only a few seconds effort to reach the edge of the hallow, he remains cautious. Something inside him tells him to _be weary_, to keep away should the female be in recharge. But his need to find the female trumps this message of caution.

Inside the hallow, he finds a carved out burrow that goes just deep enough for him to comfortably walk in a circle. He can see the depths of her talons into the surface, and how parts had been melted from extreme heat.

In the back of the hallow, he can see what he believes to be the very beginnings of a _nest_. A ring of melted rocks sit in line, and it holds a thin layer of soft sand and glittering stones. The sand still held the imprint of the female, he can see where she had curled up to recharge for the night cycle, and though the scent was stale, perhaps a few cycles old, he knew that she had spent some time here.

He can't stop himself from thrusting his muzzle into the sand, trying to gain _more_ of that wondrous scent. It was something warm, some he had not come across and yet all to familiar. It was not the burnt-sweetness of the gestational fluid inside of Shockwave's lab, no, this was something far more primal.

New lines of code present itself without his permission. They're demanding to find the female. And Predaking is helpless to obey this instinct.

For now, his frame falls to the side, and he continues to rub his helm into what little is left of her scent, his legs stretch, and talons knead deeper into the sand. _Where are you_? He asks himself through the haze, _Where is my queen_?

  
  


* * *

_ **Five weeks later....** _

Ratchet's brow furrows when he comes across yet another human transmission, _another_ reported sighting of a great beast in the desert. Part of him knows that its that dreadful beast Predaking, and yet, the reported sightings _do not match_ Predaking entirely.

Predaking's plating was mostly dark colored, but this one was reported to be... mostly cream? Red 'eyes'? No, perhaps Predaking suddenly cared about his appearance.... Ratchet shook the thought from his helm, it was a stupid thought.

However, the reportings still worry him, and once more he questions if they had really destroyed all of the predacons in that mountain.

“Another sighting old friend?” Ratchet is grateful that Optimus often extends his EM field when he enters the command center, otherwise he would have jumped out of his armor in fright. Ratchet sighs, but nodded. “Yes, these increased sightings are worrisome Optimus. Whatever this creature is, it's getting to close to the humans. And... I don't believe it to be Predaking. The descriptions just don't match.”

Optimus stepped up the screen, scanning over the numerous reports so far. Within the last week alone, there was a total of four, far to many and to close together for comfort. Ratchet was true to his word, the descriptions did not match up tp Predaking.

“Optimus, are you _sure_ that all the predacons in that mountain were destroyed?”

“I can account for the ones in the main lab, however, Shockwave would have anticipated being found at some point in time. I would have no doubt that he kept a few separate from the others.”

“What are we going to do Optimus? The predacon is getting to close to the human settlements, it's only a matter of time before someone is hurt... or killed.”

“We need to gather more information first Ratchet, with a predacon we cannot go in blind.”

“I've already began to work on where it could be, the reports were all made in the same general location.” Ratchet pulls up a map, and points towards a cluster of red dots around what Optimus believes is a pond of some sort. “All the reports were made around here, Raf explained it as a 'swimming hole', young humans go here to escape the heat. I've also contacted Agent Fowler, I'm sorry Optimus but I needed human assistance to keep the younglings away from the area. He confirmed that the area was sealed off for now.”

“Very good Ratchet,” Optimus leans forward, “But the question remains, what is a predacon doing by itself, none of the reports state there was another being with them. Do you believe there is something at this location that has Megatron interested?”

“No. An energon deposit would have contaminated the water, I've scanned the area several times... there's nothing of interest there.”

It was true. Optimus had actually dropped the children off there once during a hot day. There were many humans there playing and relaxing in the water. It was shaded by some trees but other than the natural formations of rock, it was unimpressive. So perhaps the predacon was not acting out on orders. Was it acting out on anything? Did Megatron even have the ability to control it?

“What about a lone predacon? Perhaps there is a slim chance that this one was not given an obedience program and its acting on its own free will.”

Ratchet crossed his arms, reading over the data and the reports. “Hmmm... It's... possible. I can't say for sure Optimus.”

“Very well. For now, we should make it a priority to gather information, if possible, perhaps convince the predacon peacefully that the location is not suited for its needs.”

“Predacons being peaceful? Bah, Optimus, never change.”

* * *

_ **One week later...** _

The plan was to survey the surroundings, and slowly bring it closer to the lake in the hopes of finding any evidence that a predacon was truly taking residence within the area. Arcee and Smokescreen had taken the north end of the lake, Bulkhead had taken the south with Wheeljack.

After an hours search, it was Smokescreen that stumbled over evidence that something big was,_ in fact_, in the area. It was an indent in the ground, and he had slipped along the edge. He stumbles backwards, optics glancing down to see the odd shape and its depth.

“Hey, look at this.” Smokescreen points towards the track he had almost fallen into, Arcee quick to his side. “Looks like something big came through here... It's old, maybe a cycle or so?”

“There's no other tracks,” Arcee noted, “It might have taken to the air from here. Ratchet, are you getting this?”

“_Yes. Look at the size of those tracks... my Primus what are we dealing with... Are there any other signs its been in the area? Was it digging for something? Hunting something?”_

Arcee glances around, “Not that I can tell. There's just some broken trees and I did see some signs of soil deposits like it was trying to find something but stopped halfway through. Ratchet, do you think its looking for something?”

* * *

  
  


“I have some theories to the 'why' its been hanging around this area but nothing concrete. But I can't put the pieces together. There's no energon here, I've already tested soil samples.” Ratchet was pacing in front of the main computer, arms crossed over his chassis as he tried to think of a reason, _any logical reason_ why a predacon so large would stick around. “What is it doing there? What does it want?”

Raf had been staring down at the map with Miko at his side, Jack was sitting on the couch, watching as Optimus surveyed the sightings and reports.

“Ratchet,” Raf spoke up, “You said you think that this predacon isn't acting on orders right?”

“That's the main theory right now. No reports state or support Decepticon activity.”

“Okay, so hear me out, what if... what if the predacon is doing whats 'natural' to it?”

Ratchet stopped mid-step while Optimus looked down at the smallest of the humans in their care. “Doing what's natural?”

“Yeah,” Raf confirmed, a wide smile on his face, “How much information do you have on predacons? Did Cybertron ever have museums or a archaeological department or something? Using fossils to predict what extinct animals did when they were alive? Let's just assume that the predacon, is, doing what's only natural, instinctive. Maybe its trying to find a prime location to call a home or a nest or burrow. It's chasing humans off because they entered its territory. Could that be why it's suddenly showing up?”

Ratchet could actually feel his CPU stall in the astounding level of logic from the human. Why hadn't he thought of that before?

“I can see it.” Miko agreed. “I've been there a few times. There's a lot of nooks and crannies large enough to hide a predacon like Predaking. I don't think it would be to hard to hide this newbie. So you think its trying to make a home-base or something Raf?”

“Maybe, just maybe.”

“So lets roll with this theory,” Raf continued, “If the predacon is going to make a nest at the lake... and there's no energon at the lake... wouldn't it make sense that it would leave eventually? There's nothing keeping it there.”

“Well there's the lake,” Jack cut in, “The water is actually really nice when the sun is starting to go down. It's not that deep, maybe six or seven feet deep. I remember when there used to be water-proof solar lights at the bottom and string lights in the trees. It was really nice during the hottest summers here.”

* * *

  
  


Wheeljack crouches behind a large rock while Bulkhead had kept further back in the trees. His radar was picking up another Cybertronian signal, but it wasn't registering as any-bot they had encountered before. The EM signature was unknown, yet to be cataloged and so Wheeljack had signal immediate radio silence to the green plated Wrecker.

Old habits die hard, one never knew who was listening.

Bulkhead had been the one to point out the broken top layer of trees, and how the broken parts had given them a clear path of where the target had been going.

They point towards the center where the lake sat.

There was a loud _thoom_ of something heavy hitting the ground, and the rumbling thunder of that something growling low. He crept forward, keeping low to the ground and his EM field tight to his armor.

Bulkhead had fallowed his example.

He gets close enough to peer around an out cropping of rocks, and he holds his breath. The predacon they were tracking was sitting in the center of the pond. There were lights at the bottom of the water, giving off a soft glow that rippled as the beast settled down with a long sigh, large talons kneading at the sand and soil at the bottom.

'So it likes to lounge, nice.' The predacon was the same breed as Predaking, but that wasn't the only problem.

This wasn't Predaking. This new predacon was simply _massive. _This predacon was clearly in a different weight class. It's plating with a soft shade of white, high lighted with red panels and bright red bio-lights. Pink optics shuttered as it purred at the sensation of the water against its frame. Wings were folded and pressed against its long back, its tail resting on the bottom of the lake. Its array of horns appeared sharp, slimmer but it did not diminish the potential danger of how they could be used.

How could they have missed something _so big_? It maneuvered its neck to rest in an S shape, helm pointed downwards as it seemed to relax. Wheeljack takes several image captures, and takes the risk of sending them to Ratchet.

'Ratchet, this thing is huge. I don't have the fire-power to bring it down right now. We need to get out of here.'

Wheeljack stills when those optics widen, plating rattles and the beast growls loud when it lifts its frame out of the water. Its long helm turns slowly to the west, he can hear it inhaling. _Oh Primus please don't let it find me. _It's wings fluttered, water rolling off like a light rain.

It huffs, and then turns towards him. He takes as many image captures as he can before he dies.

But it leaps into the air, and beats its wings above his helm and flies off towards the open desert. 'Ratchet, I don't know what just happened but it just flew away. Sending you a general direction right now. I'm ready to come to base now. I've filled my near-death-qouta for the cycle.'

  
  


* * *

“It just flew away?” Smokescreen was sifting through the captures of the predacon, marveling at the size of such a beast. He admitted to himself that he was _disappointed_ that he didn't see it with his own optics. “Was it spooked or something?”

“No way something could 'spook' that thing. I know it didn't see it, it would have eaten me.”

“So why would it leave?” Bulkhead shifted his weight, sharing the same expression as Ratchet as they racked their CPU's for a possible answer. “Why would something so powerful just leave its territory?”

“Maybe it realized there wasn't anything for it there?” Miko submitted, “If there's nothing there to fight for, then why stay?”

Smokescreen paused on an image capture right before it had taken flight. There was something off about it. Apart from the predacon being massive, it looked... dare he say 'bloated'? “Hey Ratchet, does that look normal for a predacon?”

“What are you talking about? There's nothing normal about predacons.”

“No,” He points towards its mid-section, “I mean, it's frame. That doesn't look very aerodynamic to me. Its... fat. It's fat.”

“...what?”

* * *

_ **Three weeks later....** _

The desert air is crisp in the morning, the chill of the night lifting to the warmth of the sunlight that wakes her from recharge. It had taken some time, but she had finally found a place to build her nest away from the organics. In the face of a high rock wall she had dig out her hallow, her nest is built deep within and filled with soft sand. The cramps come and go but she knows she's not quiet ready to release her eggs.

There was still time to gather energon crystals. She doesn't have the luxury to sit and relax with the morning sun. She has to find enough energon to last long enough for her eggs to hatch, she can't leave them alone.

She had tried several times to build a nest here and there, but those organics keep finding her, and it wasn't long before taller, armored beings had fallowed them. She can't fight them right now. She can't defend herself so close to laying.

She will not endanger her brood. She lifts herself from the nest, grunting as she felt just how swollen her gestational chamber was, she can feel... two, perhaps three or four eggs shifting around and her feeding lines are beginning to prime themselves for her hatchlings first nursing.

She peers out in the distance, tasting the air, she can taste only the sunlight, and she believes it safe enough to travel to where she had found energon before.

  
  


* * *

Predaking is quick to take charge, snarling at another drone as he takes a massive piece of energon for himself, even swatting one out of the way when he picks it up in his jaws and takes flight.

There is only one thing on his mind right now.

Find the Queen.  
Find the Queen.  
Find _his_ Queen.

He had been circling a place her scent had lingered for some time now. He has a general location of where the nest is, bt he has yet to find the nest itself. He had caught her scent in several spots here. There was a location to the north where he had found imprints of her paws, and evidence that she had dug deep for something. There was a sand bed that her scent was the strongest.

There she would press her frame into the ground and lay dormant for long periods of time. Predaking had nosed along the shape of her frame in the sand, it was changing every so slightly. Almost unnoticeable, oh, but he had _noticed_. Her scent was becoming... sweeter, softer, _warmer_. He could make out where her front limbs were curled up, and how her belly had pressed into the sand to create a slight bowl.

She's was certainly a healthy size, he finds some comfort in knowing that she was somehow surviving on her own. _How strong my queen must be_, he thinks to himself, gazing off towards the ground as he searched yet again for the nest. It was a prime location, further away from the mountains where his dead brothers lay, and out of reach of organic creatures. There were high walls of rock to burrow into, and plenty of pathways to hide if needed.

Instinct has been running rampant sine his first departure, driving him forward until he had found the female and the nest. Predaking is not one to deny his nature.

Instinct demands a lot of things.

It demands only to find the nest, and then to properly court the female. He must be careful, females were violent, he could _die_ if he took a step to close and she would not hesitate to take him out of the sky if it came down to it. He must prove himself.  
Fortify the nest, show he can be a productive mate that can do more than simply lounge around. Bring her fuel to still her anger but a little. He would do all and more if it meant to lay beside her in a warm nest.

* * *

  
  


The second time the predacon is encountered was by Bumblebee, an energon source had suddenly pinged on the computer, and there was only a single spark reading in the area. The yellow mech was bridged a distance away from the source, and he was informed to only gather more information, not to engage, retreat if spotted.

Bumblebee crouches down as low as he can against the dry rock, looking down at the predacon and live-feeding the visuals to base.

The predacon was just as large in the image captures. Massive talons ripping rock from the ground as it made quick work to devour exposed, _raw_ energon. Mandibles would grip the lavender crystals, and sharp denta would break it small enough to travel down its long throat. He suspects that its ignition chamber would then melt them down before it would land into its fuel tanks.

From his high perch, he can look down on the predacon's back. Those tremendous wings folded neatly, something splaying out to aid in the beasts balance or extra leverage to yank a crystal from the earth. It was larger than Predaking, this Bumblebee could confirm. If he had to make a rough guess, he would have to say maybe a third-times larger in mass alone. However, there was something else that made Bumblebee focus on its mid-section.

Namely it's abdominal region, it wasn't flat like Predaking, no, it was _round_, it bulged slightly on either side of the white predacon and it appeared to take great care when it would rest upon it as it took short breaks from the effort of digging out energon.

Smokescreen was right, it did look fat.

He watched as it repeated the steps. Dig. Eat. Rest. Dig. Eat. Rest. Then it began to dig deeper, it's optics set on a large stalk and digging around it. It would pull out pounds of rock, and then take a rest, and then begin this new process again. It was almost a half hour later when it finally go the crystal loose, roots still attached. A hefty piece of energon, enough to make his mouth water at the sight of it.

Despite his hunger, he wouldn't dare try to go for it alone. It was dragged out of the pit, and the predacon gripped it with her talons and within a few beats of its wings it had taken off to the air. It was going due west.

  
  


* * *

“The energon wasn't exposed,” Ultra Magnus stated, watching the recording for the third time, “The predacon knew where it was before out scanners could find it.”

“Do you think it could find energon without a scanner?” Raf questioned, also interested in the video, just seeing a predacon was a marvel to the young human. “Is it possible to?”

“Perhaps,” The medic paused the tape, “It's well documented that native mech-animals were capable of finding small energon deposits close to the surface, but this trait was found more in grazers than predators. If a predacon was able to have that ability, why would it need it in the first place?”

“I can't get over how fat it is.” Miko chuckled, Jack rolled his eyes and Arcee shifted her weight to lean towards the human. “How can it even fly like that? Play the last part again, it looked like it was struggling to lift itself.”

“We've seen it several times Miko... though I must be honest, the size of it is... worrisome.”

Bumblebee agreed. Smokescreen grinned wide. “Why's that Ratchet? Afraid its gonna eat up all the energon before we get to it?”

Optimus narrowed his gaze upon the young mech, and Smokescreen straightened his stance to that of a proper soldier. “What is bothering you Ratchet?”

“Dare I say it... it almost looks like its... _carrying_.” Ratchet can recall a peaceful time when carriers would come to his shop in the Dead End, most of them were unplanned, but none wanted to give up that chance of having a sparkling to call their own. He can remember their round stomach-plating ballooning, how warm their gestational chambers were as it cradled and nourished the life inside it. He compares it to the predacon, and he can't help but think it was carrying.

Miko waved her hand, “Carrying what?”

“The term 'carrying',” Bulkhead began, “is our way of saying a carrier is with a sparkling. They're frame is gestating a newspark and building the new-protoform inside of them... uh... what do humans call it...”

Raf looked over his shoulder, “He means that Ratchet thinks the predacon is pregnant.” Without skipping a beat, “Ratchet, do predacons lay eggs or give live birth?”

“During Cybertron's Golden Age, there were many archaeologists employed by many universities.” Optimus stepped forward, “We have some data and theories on predacon's but nothing is for certain. Some lay eggs, some birth live young. Perhaps it would do us good to study what information we have.”

Jack took his place beside Arcee, “Okay, Optimus, I think we need to take a second and really thing about this.” Jack paused the video where the predacon was in the center of the visual, “Lets say, for arguments sake, that the predacon _really is_.... carrying.” Jack couldn't bring himself to say 'pregnant', robots having babies was to weird for him. “If it _is_ carrying, what are we going to do then?”

“We will _bring it down_.” Magnus stated as a fact, his servos already itching for his hammer. Jack was visibly upset with this, “The predacon should have been extinguished in the mountain with the rest of those monsters.”

“That's not right!” Jack snarled, “Does it matter if its a predacon?! What if it was a Decepticon that was carrying a new-born? _Huh?!_ What then? Would you kill them to?”

“That thing is an animal! It would benefit us if we destroy the threat _before_ it becomes a threat! The predacon is _bigger_ then Predaking, no doubt it's more powerful, _carrier or not_ it must be destroyed.”

“_No._” The stern voice of the Prime echoed through the chamber, blue optics flashing in ire. Smokescreen, out of habit, straightened his frame to stand at attention, and Optimus commanded everyone's full attention. “If the predacon is carrying, then we shall do everything in our power to ensure that _she_ and _her young_ remain out of this conflict. I will not allow a carrier, no matter _what_ their frame may be, in harms way under any circumstance. Do I make myself _clear?_”

  
  


  
  


Optimus Prime stands alone in front of the main hub, once again watching the recording of the predacon gathering energon. He can't bring himself to enter recharge, he keeps watching the recording.

Sparklings. New born Cybertronians. The very _thought_ of it made the Matrix pulse in a pleasant tune, almost like a calming song next to his spark. It didn't matter that the sparklings were that of a predacon, it meant that there was still hope that his race could flourish once more. There was _hope_.

The Matrix does not demand much from him, as he had come to find when he was chosen to become a Prime. In fact, it demands so little when he is not on the battlefield. Outside of the battlefield, it only demands that all sparks to be spared. The Matrix, though it was not sentient, 'viewed' sparks as sacred, all life was sacred. Coming to the possibility that the predacon was carrying, the Matrix demanded the protection of those new sparks.

He studied what text they still had about predacons. Most of them were believed to lay eggs, and it appeared that the Sharp Wire Lizard, the breed Predaking and this new predacon belonged to, were devoted creators. They cared for the eggs, evidence showed that they would stockpile raw energon to stay at the nest to guard them until they hatched.

The hatchlings were entirely dependent on their creators. In the first few orns, scientists believe their plating was still brittle, their armor took time to harden and the carrier will not allow them out of the nest until then. This placed the sire of the creations to go and bring energon to the nest so the young could nurse from their carrier. Their tanks to young to process raw energon, they took energon from the carrier, already filtered several times directly from her frame.

Optimus had faced Predaking, he knows how fierce a predacon can be when enraged, but knowing just how _vulnerable_ these beings were at an early stage of their development, and how _nurturing_ they were towards their young. “...how beautiful...”

“Optimus?” The mech turned on heel to look down and there stood Miko in her pajamas. An over sized shirt and cotton shorts, it was a rare occasion to see her with her hair down and slightly messy. “What are you doing up? Oh, doing some research on the mama-to-be?”

“Yes, I am... They are devoted parents. The sparklings cannot survive without their carrier...” The Autobot commander turned back to the screen, scrolling down when it began to inform about size comparisons between males and females, and stages of their life cycles. The smallest predacon fossil found was one still in its egg, almost perfectly preserved and he was brought an image of a smiling mech holding the egg. He needed two hands to hold it, but it was a long oval shape, about the length and width of his helm. The unhatched infant was curled up inside the cracked shell, its wings so small, the whole frame was just... _so small_, Optimus believed it could have fit in the palm of his hand.

“Oh,” Miko sighed, “It's so tiny... its hard to believe it would've grown up to be an apex predator. I kind of reminds me of the T-Rex, you know?”

“... a T-Rex?”

Miko nodded, still looking at the picture of the infant. “Yeah, we believe they were devoted parents to. They actually have a lot in common now that I think about it... so what are you going to do with her? The mama-to-be?”

Optimus straightened his shoulders. “At the moment, I believe keeping our distance would be the best course of action. She may be close to laying, and I don't want to stress her out if its possible. If we can find out where the nest is located we could better watch out for their health and safety. We cannot allow them to fall victim to Megatron's control.”

“That's a good plan,” Miko agreed, “...so you think she'd let me take photos of the babies?”

“Hmm... I will ask if I get the chance to ask her.”

“...Thank you Optimus. Welp, I'm going back to bed, maybe you should head on out to. You might be a Prime but I'm sure you could use some recharge.”

  
  


* * *

_**Two weeks later** _ **...**

She covers her hoard of fuel, she can't risk predators sniffing out her only fuel source. Her plating shivers as her gestational chamber contracts for what feels like the tenth time this cycle. Warbling, her only comfort was to pace in a circle inside her nest, it was the only way to make the ever increasing pain _somewhat_ tolerable. She whines when she feels the eggs shift again, ever so slowly moving into position

She takes deep breaths, and she uses her front limbs to dig a bowl in her nest. Her eggs were coming. She groans when she feels them shift again, just now entering her valve and an odd sounds erupt from her maw. Her lower end attempts to maneuver into a squatting position but she's _not ready_, not yet.

Her plating rattles, and she keeps making the little bowl that will soon hold her eggs. She wants to lower her pelvis towards the ground, and she nearly has to drag herself into the correct position. Panting, she begins to feel her eggs move down her channel.

Her talons dig into the sand, her tail is raised and her wings flutter as she groans loudly again at the sensation of her traveling eggs. _They're coming_, she tells herself through the pain, she shutters her optics tightly and her hind limbs spread more and her pelvis and lowered again. Her talons knead deep into the sand.

The process is slow, and she wants to wail when the aches _truly_ begin, bit instinct tell her otherwise. They whisper of predators, egg thieves, and rogue males that would crush her young to install their own CNA into the next generation. It's a sensation of movement in her valve. She wouldn't describe it as 'painful', no, but it bordered that line for sure.

When the first egg drops, she hears it make contact in the soft sand, and the rest fallow quick. She can only pant as two more come to rest. What fallows are convulsions. Her valve pushing out the remaining fluids that had built up in her gestational chamber and its soaked into the sand.

Taking deep breaths, she slowly raises her hind quarters and takes a step away from her eggs to inspect them. They appear to be the right shape. The shells are still soft, she can just see the frames her of still developing children and _oh_, she trills and joy, those tiny glowing sparks sparkle beautifully. They have little paws and tiny wings and stubby tails. She sings in low notes to them, brushing her muzzle against them as she begins to half bury them with warm sand.

Her middle is still bloated with excess material, but her frame will divert it to other systems for future use. For now, she lay herself close to them, vents opening wide to blow heat over them to help harden the shells and keep them warm.

She wishes she had more time to harvest more energon, she will have to be careful to make it last as long as she manage. She won't be fueling just herself any more.

It will take some time for them to hatch, two or more cycles, but she will do all that she can ensure their future and their survival.

Predaqueen lays her helm beside her eggs, her wing opening and resting over them to encase them in comforting heat and she sings to them. Gentle notes and watches their little sparks respond with small flashes of light as they hear their carrier for the first time.

_I'll be here for you when you come out to the world._

  
  


* * *

_ **Thirteen Days Later...** _

Predaking finds something both old and new. He has found her scent again, this time its far sweeter than before but its near a hole in the ground that she had clearly dug herself. Her can see the marks of talons that scooped up the soil, and the slivers of energon crystals she must have been eating.

There was also the evidence that she had laid down, the outline of her frame embedded into the dirt.

He looked hard at the imprint, and it was as if his CPU had suddenly ground down to a halt. Her stomach was bulging, wide and round. His servo hovers at the edge, almost frightened as if touching it would make it all vanish. He takes deep breaths to steel himself.

“...are you... _carrying_?” He asks himself aloud, he presses the tip of his talon around the edge. “...You're carrying...”

Suddenly, his fruitless searches made sense. Why he couldn't find her, why she had hidden herself so well. She was ensuring the safety of her young. He had read all the available data on his species, from the archives and from Shockwave's research to aid him in his search for his queen.

A female with eggs, of _any_ species on Cybertron, would defend them with their lives. There are many dangers in the wilds, even more so for one so young and without means to defend themselves. Predaking has to rethink his efforts entirely. A female with young would not tolerate a male if it meant potential danger to her young.

She would more likely try to kill him.

He hasn't seen her yet, and yet, something primal inside him purrs in delight.

Then a thought runs across his processors, a terrible thought.

How would Lord Megatron react to the news of his queen baring young? In war, there is no room for younglings. Not even born and yet the danger was incredible for them. Would Megatron aid him in protecting them? Would be demand otherwise?

Would he order their destruction?

Oh, the very thought simply _terrified_ him. No, no. Predaking wouldn't, no, _could not_ allow such an event to pass. He makes a decision then and there, Predaking would keep this sacred information to himself, he would need to keep this secret as long as he can manage.

His species has a chance to survive, to thrive. What he once thought impossible, he could have a nest, a queen and _younglings._ He could be such a good mate if given the chance. He wonders how close she is to laying her eggs, _where _was her nest? I needed to guard them now more than ever. He needed to bring her energon so she could stay with her eggs to protect their fragile shells. He wanted to watch her nurse them, to see tiny paws hit the dirt and even smaller wings spread for the first time.

Instinct is a demanding thing, and it demands all these things.

For now, he has to adjust search, he has to find the nest. He knows she's around here somewhere, the dig site wouldn't be to far from the nest, the closer she is to emergence, the closer the newest dig sites would be. She wouldn't travel far from the nest if the eggs were close to coming.

She would have gathered enough energon to last her through their short incubation period, when the shells are still soft. However, she would have buried her energon stockpile to keep other predators from sniffing it out. He would have to go back to the Nemesis, and look at the energon scanners log. It was possible that she had enough energon to cause a blip on the scanners, and he would use this to find the exact location of the nest.

And if the Nemesis could find her nest, then what was stopping the Autobots? _What was stopping the Autobots?!_

His plating rattles at the image his mind produces, him finally finding her nest, to late. The grayed corpse of his queen laying curled around a clutch of broken eggs. No, he would not allow that to happen.

He will find her, and even if she should strike him, he would protect the nest until the very end.


	3. Egg Shells

AND IT WAS SIXTEEN CYCLES AFTER LAYING when her eggs began to shake beneath her frame. Before they had kicked and scratched at the shells as they developed but it had stopped after a few minutes. However, this time, the scratching wasn't stopping, and she lifts herself off and curls around them tightly. The shells had hardened after two cycles, hiding away those little sparks but, oh, she could still feel them. She could always feel them.

They tremble in the sand, and she uses a single talon to gently push the sand away from them to aid them in breaking through the shells. She can do nothing else to help them.

For them to be strong, they must help themselves.

She purrs loud to let them know that she was there with them, they just have to get out and sweet fuel would be waiting for them as a reward. The first egg cracks and she has to stop herself from touching the fracture.

A paw! A tiny little paw pushes through, and its followed by the smallest set of round horns and the first of her children shrieks out to say hello to the world. His plating is dark, almost black but she can see how brightly the blue bio-lights shine and he opens his optics, a royal blue, for the first time.

As he pulls himself out of his egg chamber, the second egg shatters. Her second child had stretched out his frame to pull the egg apart in the middle, and those little limbs and that tiny tail knocks the shell away. His plating is an olive color, yellow bio-lights, and amber optics. She's warbling in delight, finally allowing herself to push her stomach plating towards them.

They begin to crawl towards her, still uncoordinated but they make quick progress to get their limbs under them.

The third egg finally cracks, and her young says hello with his hindquarters sticking out of the egg. His tail hitting what was left of the egg as his front legs broke it further. His purple optics shine for the first time as he right himself, getting his arms and legs under him. His plating is mostly dark blue in color, but she can see splashes of vibrant red along his neck and his wings.

How beautiful he will be when he grows up.

Her young chirp and chatter as they make the short journey, following the sweet scent of fuel hiding beneath her plating. She purrs, urging them closer, to nurse and soon enough, they all lay against her. Their muzzles are hidden under her plating to reach the feeding nubs and _ah, finally_, that troublesome ache of her pouches were finally released. They had grown heavy, and she had been leaking these past few cycles and the nubs had grown sore.

It feels almost like a massage, her little ones gently knead her belly and Predaqueen lays her helm in the sand. Enjoying the first nursing of many to come. They would not be able to eat raw energon until they were larger.

She can feel their sparks pulsing against her own, and she doesn't fight as the carrier-creation bonds begin to form.

As she lay there, new thoughts begin to take form. She will have to leave soon to hunt for more energon sooner than she had thought she would.

The first few cycles are critical when young emerge from their eggs, their systems need to adjust to the outside world, and bonds form until they were old enough and capable of defending themselves against the elements and predators. A precious time to all creators, no matter the species. Small tanks fill with sweet energon, and they fall asleep as they were, still attached to her feeding nubs and pressed against her belly for warmth.

She will have to wait for a few cycles more until it was safe enough for them to leave the nest for short periods of time. With their armor hardened, their hydraulics's would have pressurized enough for them to grip plates on her back and she would be able to travel with them in the air without fear of them tumbling off.

Still, she would need to watch out for danger, her young do have ignition chambers, but they are still too young to expand them. Breathing fire and other such defense systems would not be online for at least and orn or more.

They were entirely dependent on her.

  
  


* * *

  
  


It was Wheeljack who had a theory, one that Optimus and Ratchet could not refute its possibility in aiding to find the location of the nest. If the predacon had been hoarding energon, then she would bring it to the nest for easy access. The energon signal would have traveled a distance, and then it would remain stationary until she had buried or hidden it away.

Where it was stationary before vanishing, would be the location of the nest. Looking to the past energon blips, there_ were several such signals _and they all vanished in the same location in the desert. The location was marked on their hubs, and only Arcee, Bumblebee and Wheeljack would be taking the dangerous task of confirming the location of the nest.

Miko whined loudly at this, wanting to take photos of the 'baby dragon'.

“Ple-_eease_?” She had begged, holding her hands together and putting on a wide smile, “I promise to be quiet! Maybe I can even help!”

“I am sorry Miko, but this mission is to dangerous for humans... However, should any Autobot find the nest they will be taking image captures. If she has lain, then we must collect information of how many sparklings there are.”

Miko paused, “Sparklings? As in plural? More than one?” Miko was trembling at the thought of _several_ baby dragons. Chubby little robotic dragons with stubby tails and tiny wings. “Oh my god,” she whispered to herself, “That's so _cute_...”

“Miko, reel it in.” Jack huffed, “I'm pretty sure that even a baby predacon can be dangerous. Raf, did you find anything else about predacon nests?”

The shortest human didn't look up from his laptop. “I did. A predacon can have between five to fifteen eggs in a single clutch, but its estimated that only one would reach to adulthood in their natural habitat. They sound more and more like dinosaurs the further I read about them.”

Ratchet began to type in coordinates, “I'm sending you three away from the nest, you're going to have to do a little traveling to find the exact location but I've already marked it on your maps. Stay out of sight, there's no telling what will happen if she sees you so close. I'd imagine she wouldn't take it very well.”

Optimus agreed. “Do not engage the predacon. We are only gathering information. If she does attack, immediately retreat and Ratchet will bridge you back to base.”

“Alright,” Arcee stood beside Bumblebee, “What if we make contact with Decepticons?”

“Then do what you must to keep the nest safe.”

  
  


In the height of the afternoon, they travel down the winding paths of the desert canyon. The nest location data reads that not only was it a mile from their current location, but it was then fifty meters _above _said location. Should things go south, they would come back to the original ground bridge location drop off.

“So we're looking for a hole in the wall.” Wheeljack summarized, “We find the hole, we find the nest. Arcee get up on that ledge over there, it's to narrow for me and Bumblebee to drive up. Let us know when you see it, and keep out for 'con activity. Bumblebee, go and scout the area for con's.

The 'hole' was found rather quickly. Arcee commed the Autobots, sending a few photos to the base. It was carved out of the rock face, the edges showing signs it was further melted down and dug deep. From the angle, Arcee noted that she can see a raised rim, the nest, and once focusing she can see the subtle outline of the predacon. She was quick to crouch down, slowly pushing a rock to hide herself.

'Wheeljack. Bee. The Predacon is inside the nest. No visual on the younglings.'

The predacon moved her neck, bringing her helm down and suddenly, Arcee could see a smaller figure leap up and paw at her muzzle. Another small figure was climbing down the length of her back. 'Hold, two sparklings confirmed.'

'Hold your position Arcee, wait and see if there are any more in the nest.' Under Ratchets order, Arcee could hear Miko squealing about how _small and adorable_ the infant predacons were.

Another little helm popped up from the rim of the nest, little talons clawing at the edge as if it were trying to escape. The predacon was quick to grab hold if her young and deposit it behind the nest rim. 'Third youngling confirmed.'

'There's three!!' Miko wailed in her joy, Arcee could hear the collective groan from Ratchet and Ultra Magnus.

'Arcee! Predaking incoming!'

“Predaking?!” Arcee murmured harshly to herself, trying to wedge herself between two rocks to keep hidden, her position wasn't ideal to defend herself. “Scrap!”

True enough, the thunderous bellow of Predaking echoed throughout the canyon, bouncing off the walls and glancing into the entrance of the nest, the female was standing at attention. Only then did Arcee realize what kind of danger they all were in.

The female was just _massive_. And that massive female was on guard.

There was a thunderous _boom_ when some soil falling over Arcee, and tilting her helm upward, she can see Predaking had perched on the edge of the cliff, looking directly into the mouth of the cave the female had made. 'Prime. Predaking is here!'

'Retreat and regroup at the rendezvous! Do not engage!'

Predaking was bellowing out to the female, muzzle pointed at the nest. Arcee didn't have a chance to respond when a bright flash and then a wail of pain from the dark predacon. The female had attacked him. Predaking had gotten to close to the nest.

The female is snarling at the mouth of the nest, the front end of her frame in the sunlight, and her wings open to block off the view of her young. Her platting rattled loudly.

Arcee didn't think something too large could move so fast.

The female leaped from her perch, wings blocking out the sun and there was no hesitation as she barreled into Predaking. Using her weight, she pushes Predaking over the ledge and further away from the nest and in seconds they were out of sight but Arcee could hear them fighting.

'The female is _fighting_ Predaking!' Arcee shouted into the com, her fingers and peds dig into the wall and she begins to climb as fast as she could.

She peeks over the edge, and the size difference was even more clear as the female and Predaking began to have a shouting match. Her helm, lifted at its fullest height was higher than Predaking, and she easily had a few _tons_ on him. She dwarfed Predaking in length and height, he was three-quarters smaller than her.

Their mandibles were just shy of touching as they roared and hollered at each other. The female's wings were open, making her _that much bigger_ than him and she was stomping the ground. The earth splintering under her weight.

Even Predaking _knows_ he can't fight her. Not with her young so close and they could he heard wailing in fear of their missing carrier out of sight. The moment Predaking turned his helm towards the sound of her wailing sparklings, she snarled and began to rain down white-hot flames on his back and his side.

Predaking is thrown from the force, _bouncing_ on the ground as the female offers no mercy. Chasing after him with talons and spread teeth with the intent to kill. Arcee had never seen Predaking snarl and retreat so fast.

The female doesn't fly after him, keeping her wings open and she fires rapidly at his tail, one hitting its mark on his backside to keep him going further and further away from the nesting site. The female roar loud at him, before turning her frame and with a leap and a beat of her wings, lands back into her cave and she lowers her helm to comfort her panicked young.

'Arcee, can you get away from the nest?'

'I can... I think. Give me a few minutes and I'll join up. The predacon is occupied with her nest.'

And it was a shame as Arcee slowly made her way down the cliff side, stopping when the female made a loud noise, that she did not notice the small gray speck flying high overhead.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Knockout had his fair share of odd mechs in his medical bay, but he stood on the sideline as he watched Predaking pace the room, his processors in a loop as it appeared.

“She's magnificent!” He stated with glee, not minding the bent and warped metal of his shoulder and leg or the charred scuffs along his frame. “No hesitation! Powerful! _Beautiful!_”

“Oh please, do tell.” Knockout had been listening to the predacon for the most part of the half hour since he arrived, and shamelessly began to clean out the joints of his fingers. “You found the nest and then... she beat the slag out of you.”

“That was my mistake. I got to close to the nest, I didn't even think to bring a gift or an offering!”

Knockout rolled his optics, sitting on his desk and crossing his legs to get comfortable. “Oh no,” he drawled, “Whatever shall you do?”

Predaking was far to excited, _happy_ even at the notion of being beaten by the female of his species. Predacons were _so strange_.

“I shall make amends when we meet again.” Predaking stated as a fact, “I need a good sized root of energon. Unprocessed. Hopefully, she takes it without violence.”

“I would _hope_ so. Predaking, forgive me for asking but the nature of predacon's are not my forte. 'How', exactly, do Predacons court one another? I don't believe simple gifts are everything.”

“Of course not.” Predaking agreed. “I must prove myself worthy of her attention. Courting a female can be dangerous, deadly even, but it is a challenge I shall not back down from.”

So... Predacons _risked_ their very sparks to mate? No wonder they died out, Knockout thought it himself though he would not dare voice it aloud. “I must prove that I can provide and protect the nest. Bring gifts like precious stones, tear down all threats that _dare_ get close to the nest. You should have seen her... she is... beautiful...”

“She attacked you.” Knockout stated dumbly, predacon's were so _weird_, something must be wrong in the processors, it the only thing that Knockout can say without a proper look into them.

“And it was well within her right to.” Predaking waved it off like it was nothing. Perhaps near-death experiences were, dare he say _normal_, in courting habits. “I got too close to the nest, I did not factor how quickly her eggs hatched. Knockout, she has _younglings_.”

The predacon sat heavily on the berth, “Little ones...” he whispered to himself, “Alive and thriving and so_ small_... and already in danger. I must return and protect the nest.”

Before Predaking would push himself off the berth, Knockout reached and pushed him back down.

“Not like that you aren't. Let's think for a moment. I'm going to put this bluntly, you look like you've been through a blender. Your plating is trashed and you smell like something _burnt_. Forgive me if I'm wrong but I sincerely _doubt_ that the... female would take in a mate that looks like he can't handle himself.”

This caused Predaking to pause, just about to retort when he glanced over at the damage on his shoulder. The plating was wrapped, cracked in places and, just as Knockout had said, burnt and smelled like it to. He was right, he looked like trash.

Nothing like a true _king_ should look. The female would not accept a sickly looking mate, wouldn't even think to tolerate it.

“I do think she will be fine long enough for me to fix you right up. Perhaps a polish is in order if you're seriously going to 'woo' her.”

Predaking gives it consideration but found himself helpless but to agree with the red mech. “...perhaps you are right.”

“Of course I am. So lay back and let the good doctor do his work. In the meantime, tell me more about how predacon's... court, if you'd please.”

Courting a female of the predacon species, Predaking's species, was no laughing matter, nor was it a gentle process as Knockout had come to learn. Predaking was not joking when he stated his life could, and _will_ be in danger should she decide otherwise.

A female was _picky_ about their mates, and they needed to be. Their young needed the right traits to survive the harsh environment. The male would bring gifts to calm the females ever present ire, or die. The male needed to prove himself that he could hold his own _against_ the female during the last stages of the courting process, or die.

It was a literal _do or die_ for predacon's. Even _courting_.

Had there been other males, Predaking would have needed to either kill them or drive them off to impress the female.

First, Predaking explained that gifts such as energon and precious stones (to decorate the nest he would build) was the first step of courting. Letting the female know that he was interested. He would bring the female to the nest he built and should she accept it, she would allow him to lay outside of the nest.

“Outside the nest?” Knockout repeated, “If she accepted, why not let you inside the nest?”

“It means that she accepted to be apart of the courtship rituals, but has not yet accepted me as her mate. Only mates share a nest. At this stage, I'm still proving myself.”

“Huh, how odd.”

While proving himself, he gathers energon, hunts down prey and brings it all to the nest. “Why the need to hunt prey? Isn't energon enough?”

“No it is not. We predacon's grow into our armor. I would have hunted smaller prey so that our frames would take in material and build our armor from the inside out.”

So they didn't upgrade their frames. How... _organic_. The thought made Knockout shudder. Predaking then explains that the courtship would take time, gaining the females trust and tolerance, the next phase would begin. At this stage, the courtship turns violent for a brief period.

He must prove to the female that _he_ can prove himself to _her_.

They duel and Predaking must force the female to _submit_ to him. He has to clamp his jaws around her throat and push her down to the ground and then they would be mates.

Easier said than done.

The female is larger than him, in both height and length and she outweighs him by several tons of mass. She will fight him, she would not make it easy for him. Its this reason alone why it's so dangerous for his species to take on a mate.

Should he bring her to submission, he would then have permission to enter the nest, and there would be no threat of assault from the female. It would only be a waiting game for her to enter heat, and then he and his queen would bring in the next generation of predacons into the world.

“So all of that to have a chance at younglings?” Knockout whistled, it sounded like it was more trouble than it was worth, he began to buff the predacon's armor with a polish of his own making. “Why all the trouble and violence?”

“Because she would ensure the younglings would have all the tools needed to survive. A mate with poor attributes would only hinder her creations in the future.”

“I see... did you get a chance to see them?”

“The female?”

“No, I already know of your encounter with her. I'm talking about the younglings. If there are younglings, wouldn't she already have a mate? Perhaps another predacon had survived?”

“No, Shockwave had confirmed that she was the only survivor. I believe the younglings had budded from her spark.”

“Ah, I see.” Budding was different from sparking a partner. Similar to asexual reproduction, the difference was that the next generation had 'scrambled' CNA instead of clones. The new generation, though born from the same carrier and even siblings, would not hold any familial CNA relations. Many theories revolve around budded sparks. Scientists believe this process began when their planet was still young and was the result of a mutation.

Others believe it to be a by-product when a spark has too much energy and the carrier just happens to enter an ovulation period, the excess energy would have dropped into the carrying chamber and a new-spark would have been created. Was it possible that female predacons could willingly spark themselves if they don't find a mate? Knockout rolls the idea in his helm before letting it go. Too little data and not enough time.

“Forgive my bluntness but why all the effort for sparklings? I wouldn't have thought you of all mechs would have _wanted_ to procreate.”

“I would not expect you to understand. You're often surrounded by your own kind, and for a time, I was on my own. I am a predacon, and I am surrounded by a different species. I have a... _chance_ to give my race a second chance. To _belong_ somewhere, to have someone to fly with, to nest with... I want younglings. I want to watch them grow, and thrive under the care of my mate and myself.”

“The thought of tiny Predaking's does sound adorable... What do you plan to do? The first step in the courtship I mean. I don't think your first impression went to well.”

Predaking pauses. Yes, it was the complete opposite of he wanted to introduced himself. It was almost shameful. He shouldn't have gotten so close to the nest, he hadn't brought a gift and during their short close encounter he _should_ have backed down and given the female her space.

The first impression had gone _terrible._

“I will need to earn her forgiveness first. I got too close to the nest. I didn't back down from her threats. I will need to hunt for energon. Perhaps speak with her, if she will permit it.”

“Would you make her a new nest now or later?”

“...I will make that decision based on her reaction when she sees me again.”

Knockout grins, “I see. So, my next question. The female already has younglings, does this change the 'courtship ritual' at all? I imagine you'd have to factor this into your plans to woo her.”

“Of course it does. It makes it more dangerous. Some males will kill younglings, eliminating potential threats before they become a threat and their own young would have a better chance of survival. If I was ever a threat to them, I would hope that she does kill me. Only the worst would take the life of a youngling.”

Knockout took the moment to agree with Predaking. The red mech may not 'like' sparklings (they were loud and _messy_ little things), but he was not sparkless and would not wish such things upon them. “So what's different when the female has younglings?”

“It will be harder to gain her trust and permission to court. I should acknowledge her young but not interact with them, not without her permission and remain submissive should she allow it.”

Predaking goes silent for a moment. Wondering _if_ she would have allowed it, and how it would go for the younglings. At this time, they had heard him, a matured male of their species, but they hadn't seen him. At least, he doesn't think so. Predacons that have just hatched were _blind_ the first few days, their optics online but not taking in any visual data. They would have used the sweet scent of their carrier to find her to nurse for the first time.

Would they have crawled over his frame? Investigating how big _they_ would grow someday? Would they paw at his mandibles or playfully chew his plating? Would the female stare down at him and see that he wasn't a threat?

The rest of the repair was silent as Predaking played the fantasy through his helm. It only strengthened his resolve.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Predaqueen had exhausted her energon reserves the day prior, and now she's trying to decide if it were wise to leave the nest. Should she bring her young? Should she hide them away?

The encounter with the male had left her shaken, not that she had fought him off but the fact that upon further inspection of the land around her nest had revealed _things_ had gotten even closer. It wasn't the organic creatures that had gotten close, but the ones of metal she had seen creeping in trees when she had taken a short time to rest in the waters of the pond.

It's more than clear that this nesting site was no longer safe, and she _needed_ to build another nest elsewhere. Somewhere higher, somewhere better hidden but she also needed to make sure that there were energon pockets close by as her brood were still nursing.

To do this, she needed to travel, and that alone put herself in danger if the male would come back or these metal beings would fallow her to the new nest.

Her broods armor had finally hardened, protecting fragile protoflesh but it stood no chance against fully grown predacons or weapons. They were still young, and had yet to begin building upon the armor to make it denser. They could walk and run just fine, but their wings were still to small and too weak to carry their weight.

Predacons right out of the egg have small wings that grow faster than their frame, but it takes time. They won't begin to grow until their weaned from their carrier and begin to eat material from hunted prey. Their ignition chamber also doesn't expand until this time, the lining to thin to hold the high pressure or handle the incredible heat her kind were infamous for.

They would die without her. The thought of them alone and scared makes her tremble.

She had no choice, she cannot leave them alone with so many predators around the nest. They will have to make the journey with her to a new nest.

Predaqueen chirps, and instantly, her young cease play-wrestling to stand in line before her. She opens her wings, and lowers her front until her chest is pressed into the sand and using her snout, she pushes her young to crawl up her leg and into her back. The next two fallow their sibling, and within a few minutes, they settle between her plating. Little talons locking around smaller sections of armor to anchor themselves and she can feel them press against her and remain still and silent.

They may be young, but they instinctively know what to do when leaving the nest with their carrier. They're in the safest part of her frame, what predators would _dare_ attack her? She can fly higher than any other, none would attack from above. Her brood are between her wings and so she can use her wings without fear of knocking them off her.

Predaqueen has no emotional attachments to the first nest, she does not keep the eggshells as they had done their job in protecting and keeping her young warm during incubation. Predacons are not stationary creatures, and very few of them stay in a single nest their whole lives.

Prey moved with the seasons, and so the predators needed to move with their food source.

Stepping out into the sunlight, she stretches out her wings and neck. Sniffing the air but found no linger scents in the area or in the currents of the wind.

Without preamble, she takes to the air and flies high. Her sensors are alive and on edge, she has to be quick to find a new nesting site. For two hours, she circles deeper into the desert, she's found a few pockets of energon that ping on her scanners. Some big, some small and some not even worth marking on her scanners.

Two and a half hours later, she comes across a deep ravine. At some point in time, it may have been a riverbed, and at the bottom, she can see evidence of such a thing. She doesn't want to nest here. There's no energon nearby.

Three hours into her search, she finds something. A sheer cliff-side that drops deep into the earth like a great jagged wound. There are many dark crevices, many places to hide and to her delight, there is a small cave system large enough for her to walk through without touching the ceilings and wide enough for her frame. She wouldn't have waste energy digging out space, she just needed to make the nest.

Checking her map, there are a few energon pockets nearby, not as close as she would have liked them to be but perhaps being too close to an energon source would bring unwanted attention to her nest. She doesn't know how the male had found her nest, they can't track energon like a female can and so she decided that she would not bring energon to her nest this time.

Landing in one of the dark corner caves, she investigates the new terrain. The rock is smooth and cold to the touch, and almost immediately, she doesn't like the way it feels under her talons. It feels... damp. There is evidence of a flash flood.

She leaves to the sky once more.

Four hours later, she still hasn't found a new nesting site and she needs to land. Her young are growing restless and they're beginning to whine. They need to nurse and she would not deny them.

Turning back to the ground, she places herself in a crevice on the ground, and she purrs to allow her brood to disembark their carrier. Leaning against the rock, and exposing her underbelly, they were quick to latch on in their hunger.

As they nurse, she takes in the land. The walls are high around them, there are energon a little further away from their current location Its ways away from the previous nest and the burning mountain, and the more she thinks about it...

The more she likes this place. The sand is soft here, almost powder-like under her talons. Its dry, she can't smell any evidence of water or see proof of flash floods. There was no evidence of paved paths of the organics, and there hadn't been a single organic creature popping up as her young nursed.

She decides to make her new nest in this place. She knows for a fact that there is no _absolutely_ safe nesting site, so she must make do with what is available.

In the height of the afternoon, she had spent the time to create the new nest. Digging deep at an angle this time, all that would have been visible to the outside was a cropping of rock and only those that were flying _might_ see it, but then again, they may think it was just the shadows of the rock. She wouldn't have to worry about her ever curious young falling to their deaths.

She doesn't decorate her nest, there were no precious stones or material that caught her optic to decorate with. She crushes and melts rock into place, forming a rim that was tall enough to keep her brood inside until they were larger and stronger. She needed to make this nest as safe as she could make it by herself.

That night, the nest was warm and her little ones are pressed against her belly, having finished their meal and recharging. Predaqueen was kept awake by her thoughts.

There is a male predacon, and he had found the nest and had loudly announced his greeting, as was customary among predacons. She does not doubt that he had been searching for her, for how long, she doesn't know.

Predaqueen has to keep alert for him, at that moment, she didn't care for courtship, she didn't care that there was another member of her species, all that mattered was he was too close, and her young was frightened. Without a second thought, she had put him in his place, and drove him away.

Now, her mind clears and allowing thoughts to flow freely, did she recollect her thoughts on the male.

She does not deny that it pleased her to see a male, his dark plating pleasant and he clearly took care of himself very well. She remembers the weight of his frame when she rushed him, he wasn't underweight, his armor didn't crack under her force and the width of his wings when he took flight.

She _might_ have been more welcoming to his approach had he announced himself further away, but he will have learned from his mistake.

Still, she plays with the thought of a mate, how much easier it would be to raise and protect her young knowing they would be protected by a strong mate.

Predaqueen would never deny her want for a mate, but she would never submit to a weak mate and endanger her children. Weak mates often meant death for the next generation, and what kind of carrier would she be to doom her children before they were even born? Obviously, she wouldn't allow it.

Still, she thinks to herself as she lowered her helm to drift into recharge, the thought of a mate was nice but her children would come first.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Wheeljack and Optimus return to the nest after two days of no recorded activity. The nest was large enough to hold the whole Autobot team and still have room for more, and inside was a layer of soft sand. Optimus crouches down, and pick up a thin, curved piece of what was no doubt an eggshell. It was brittle under his fingers, cracking easily when he pressed lightly to test it and it was colored a dark shade of grayed-red and speckled with black and gold dots. He thought it was beautiful to see, it glittered when he held it to the light.

“From what I can tell,” Wheeljack began, picking up what appeared to be the top half of an egg, the smooth mound a grayed-green color, “There were... two... three eggs that hatched. Confirming Arcee's visual data.”

Optimus places a silver of egg-shell into his subspace, wondering if either Ratchet could gather some data from it or perhaps to appease Miko's desire for a photograph of the young predacons. The nest was abandoned, no doubt the female wanted to keep her young safe and hidden away from Predaking or any other Decepticon.

“...” Optimus turns his gaze towards the rim of the nest, he can see little claw marks and even the prints of the sparklings. So small. “They are active, look and you can see their footprints.”

He held a hand next to the print, just a little bigger than the tip of his finger and the way the tracks were around the whole of the nest, they stumbled and often bumped into their nest-mates.

“Yeah, I'd imagine they'd be born travel-sized.”

Optimus returned to stand upright, stepping over to where the female had spent most of her time laying on her side. The imprint was all that was left of her. If Optimus curled up tight, he could have fit in the shape of her belly in the sand.

Though he had seen the images of the predacon, seeing the size of it was different. There were no exaggerations about its size.

Again, the beauty of a nursing carrier, of a species he had only known violence from, had caught his breath.

“So she attacked Predaking because he got too close to the nest, meaning she wouldn't hesitate to attack one of us or a human for the same reason.” Wheeljack stepped out the nest, making his way to the entrance of the cave. “Prime, I've got some good news. It just so happens... that I may have attached a tracker on the predacon.”

Optimus looks sternly at the shorter Autobot, silently asking him to explain.

“I took the chance of throwing a magnetized tracking beacon the second she attacked Predaking. I don't think she noticed it. It was a lucky shot, stuck right on her aft-end.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Starscream is pacing in front of Megatron as he sat in his thrown, seeing the predacon fight and throw Predaking as if he were a mere _toy_ had made Starscream rethink his plans of silently killing the second predacon and make his escape. It was just massive, its power grand and foreboding and its weaponry was more effective than Predaking's.

His wings flutter in his ire, another _beast_ to deal with.

What was Predaking thinking? Looking for that _thing_ and announcing himself like that? Sure, he was an animal, but even simple animals have a sense of self-preservation. '

“Predaking,” Starscream sneered, “Found our wayward beast and was pitifully beaten. My Lord, if it cannot be tamed, then perhaps it would do good for the cause to... put it down.”

Megatron tapped the arm of his chair, his chin resting on the knuckles of his other servo, giving thought to the recording Starscream had gotten. An aerial view and he can clearly see which was Predaking by the dark plating. The female had mostly white plating, and again, Megatron could see the size difference between the two.

Shockwave had informed him that the females were larger, but Megatron had imagined they only _appeared_ larger without actually being bigger.

He had thought wrong.

Very wrong.

He replays the part where the female rushes Predaking, how much wider her wings were compared to Predaking to lift her massive frame.

“She is certainly powerful. Autobots can barely handle Predaking, I have no doubts _she _would spell their end if they were ever to meet. Such power would aid us, we should endeavor to bring her where she belongs.”

Starscream sneered, “You mean to tame the wild beast? My Lord, if I may be so _bold_, I'd imagine she'd sooner attempt to tear you apart.”

Megatron revealed a set of sharp denta, standing to face the front of the ship where clouds parted the path ahead.

“Which is why _animals_ need to be put in their place. If I am to control this... Predaqueen, than I shall have to force her into submission. Soundwave.”

The lithe mech steps out from the control panel, as silent as ever. “Find Predaqueen... keep a _close_ optic on Predaking while you're at it.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Predaqueen leaves her young for the first time to go hunt for energon. If she doesn't keep her levels above sixty-percent, she won't be able to make the fuel for her children within her frame. She presses them into the sand, to lay flat on their bellies and curled up tied around each other. They whimper, it would be the first time they were separated from her for so long.

It hurts to leave them so soon, but her levels are currently at fifty-two and dropping. She _has_ to leave or they may starve. It's to early for them to begin weaning right now.

They paw at her muzzle and then go still.

They can't draw attention to themselves, and they know it.

Without her, they're just a meal on legs.

Predaqueen doesn't glance back as she takes flight to the sky, heading towards one of the many energon deposits she had logged on her map.

Shes has to hunt.


	4. Of Kings and Queens

Predaqueen is forced to dig deep at this deposit, there is another deposit closer to the surface but she doesn't want to take the hour flight to that location. Separation anxiety is setting in and it's making her on edge. Her plating feels tight, and so far she's only found enough energon to bring her levels close to sixty, but she's not there yet.

Pulling another chunk of rock from the earth, she uses her weight to press and break it apart. Revealing the glistening purple crystals inside. It's a small cluster, each one barely the length of her talon but she'll take everything she can get. She has to.

Using her mandibles, she scrapes away the dirt and clutching with her teeth she rips it from the rock and it slides down her throat whole. She has to be quick.

  
  


Bumblebee scales cover the cliff, Bulkhead holding the line as he lowered the yellow mech closer to the entrance of the new nest. Arcee was already at the entryway, and Optimus had taken the first step inside the cavern.

“Ratchet... Are you receiving a clear image?”

'_Yes Prime. The picture is clear. Predaqueen is stationary, no chance in her position. I will alert you immediately when she's returning to the nest.'_

“Thank you Ratchet.” Optimus glances over his shoulder, just as Bumblebee finally has his peds on the ground, “We're entering the nest now.”

'_Get me some pictures of the babies!!'_ Miko had shouted into the microphone, Ratchet and Jack were together in their attempts to calm the excited young woman, '_Baby Dragons!'_ The young human cheered.

Optimus enters what he believes is the main chamber, there was a similar structure created from melted rock and a thick layer of sand.

“So this is the nest? It's huge.” Arcee kept her voice quiet, spotting the lumpy curled figures of the sparklings recharging in the center of the nest. They had partially buried themselves, little claws clenched and opened as their helms rubbed against another frame of their sibling. The size of the nest didn't make sense to hold something so small. Why did it need to be so big? Predaqueen was massive, but still, the nest was even larger.

“Maybe its so the sparklings can move around? There are tracks in the sand, Predaqueen lays over there and they play with her watching. I don't think she'd let them out of the nest yet.”

'_Correct Arcee. It looks like their armor has hardened, but they wouldn't be able to survive much damage done to them at this stage. Refrain from touching or waking them. Can you get a little closer? Get a scan if you can.'_

“They're to close together, are you sure you want me to scan them?”

_'Affirmative Arcee.'_

Arcee slides a hand-held scanner from her subspace, Optimus moves closer to the side, keeping away from the sparklings as the femme crept closer to the huddled bunch. Over the com-link, Miko is squealing with glee at the image of the sleeping sparklings.

Arcee scans them several times from different angles, and Ratchet informs her that there is no change in where their carrier is at the moment.

“Scans sent. You should be getting them now Ratchet.”

'_Yes, I'm getting them. Optimus, get a scan of the cave. Does it go deeper?'_

Optimus looks around, turning his helm upwards towards the high ceilings and further out of the nest and the light of his head-lights mounted on his chest finds only a wall a few meters behind the rim of the ring. “The cave goes no further Ratchet-”

Three pairs of little optics are looking up at the tall mech. “...scrap.”

Little jaws begin to wail as they spring to their feet, Arcee already out of the nest and Optimus stands frozen where he stood. They stand together, shoulder to shoulder as they holler loudly and beat their little paws against the ground.

'_You woke them up?!'_

The infant predacons were wailing, high pitched and flapping wings that looked to small for their frames. Again, Miko was loudly screaming how cute it was when they tried to be threatening. Optimus watches them curiously, crouching down to rest on one knee to look closer at them. He slowly reaches out one hand, and gives a silent signal for the Autobots to remain where they were.

The bravest of the three, royal blue armor, and lunged forward and snarls when he uses his teeth and claws to bite down as hard as he could onto the offending servo. Arcee inhales sharply, but there was no change in Optimus's expression. The sparkling chomps down again and again, but he doesn't have the strength to chip away the first dermal layer. Barely a scratch.

At this age, they were harmless.

The predacon continue its attempts to defend the nest, and within moments, his brothers had joined in. Optimus allows it, they weren't hurting him and he _was_ the intruder. Tiny paws bat at his offered servo and fingers, a green sparkling began to growl and tug with all his might. A dark blue brother was attempting to climb up his arm but he couldn't get a grip with still blunted talons.

They chatter loudly, and Optimus huffs in amusement.

They were _play fighting_ with him. Perhaps they thought they were being brave (and they were) and that they would defend themselves without their carrier hovering over them.

Optimus remains where he was, fluttering his fingers to entice the younglings into another bout of chewing and batting at him. He wouldn't lie, he was enjoying himself. Watching the younglings bite down and _try_ to appear threatening by puffing out their fragile armor and look more aggressive was amusing.

Through the com-link, Optimus can hear Miko begging Ratchet to open a ground bridge and Ratchet states that he was almost tempted, if not for the threat that, even so young, the infant predacons could still seriously maim a human if they didn't outright kill them.

“_Optimus, since they're awake, get a scan of them individually and leave as soon as you can. Bumblebee, set up the monitoring system somewhere hidden- Miko! Quiet down!-But the BABIES!-”_

  
  


Predaqueen gobbles down another silver of energon roots, digging deeper, she only finds the bases of the roots and she can eat no more. She has to bury the bases or energon won't grow back again. Looking at her levels, she's only at sixty-two-percent. Its enough to get her system to filter out fuel, but the trip out won't be worth it until she can get around eighty-percent. She would be able to nurse her brood for a few cycles before going out again.

She weighs the cons and pros, and decides it would be worth another venture further outward to gather the fuel. She would be better prepared to defend herself if she can get as much fuel as she can, better chances of survival for her children.

She accesses her map again, there's a larger deposit a half hours flight to the west and she doesn't hesitate to take a step and a leap into the air.

  
  


  
  


Predaqueen had made a miscalculation in the distance, or, at least she thought she had. Her sensors had picked up a large energon source, but it wasn't one underground. She circles the source, or to be more correct, she circled the being at the source.

It was the _male_ again.

He roars out in greeting, _prancing_ side to side around the large energon crystal he had clearly dropped in the middle of the desert. A greeting, and an offering.

She descends, and once she's within range, she's pleased to see that he backs away quickly. Landing with a boom, she growls low in her chest, opening her wings as an open threat. The male submits, lowering his frame to the ground and moving backwards.

She's bigger than him. Her fire burns hotter. She's _stronger_ than him. He's barely a threat, but she won't take him lightly however. She approaches with caution, and for every step she takes forward, he takes one back.

Upon reaching the energon, she lays a large paw on it, pressing it into the ground and scratching it with her talons. It's dense, the lightest touch barely scratches the surface, and it's about the length of her long head and heavy when she pulls it towards herself.

Predaqueen growled, but paused when he did something she does not know males to do. He laid down on his belly, folded his wings tight, and raised his helm to bare his throat.

This was a position of _total_ submission. If she were to suddenly decide to tear into him, she doubts he would have time to properly defend himself.

Quieting herself, she decides to ignore the male for the time being, and turns her gaze upon the _gift_.

  
  


Predaking cannot take his optics off her for several reasons. The first, and most important reason was they she could suddenly go for his throat and kill him. So he keeps a relatively safe distance as she consumes the energon he had brought her. If he relaxes to much, he risks offending her. He cannot let down his guard, in a way, he is acknowledging that she is stronger than himself and he's showing her that he knows this.

On a one on one fight, and if she _truly_ desired him dead, she would make it happen.

The second reason was that she was beautiful in his optics. Her mid-section was still slightly bloated, no doubt her gestational chambers still held the fluids that nurtured her eggs while they were still inside her. Her colors were bright, healthy and shining in the sunlight.

She's eating the energon, only making quick glances at him before returning to her task. Perhaps, next time, he would bring her material, perhaps there were some unused sheets of metal he could bring to her to feast upon. Or perhaps she would like raw iron ore?

She lifts her helm to slide a shard down her throat, and he admires the length of her neck as she does so.

He uses his limbs to slide further away from the female, and she's instantly alert of his movements. Her plating rises, she's growling as she grips what was left of the energon he had given her. He remains low to the ground, keeping his wings tight against his hide and once he feels that he's at a safe distance, he lays himself on the ground.

And watches as she returns to the meal he had gifted her.

He toyed with the thought of _speaking_ with her, but that would require him to transform, and that alone could either offend her or she would kill him in a moment of vulnerability. A female would not hesitate to take out something that is a threat, no matter the species, even their own.

The only true defense he had against her was his speed and denser armor. True, she was larger than him, but her armor wasn't as thick and her size made her slower. He also had battle experience on his side, perhaps if he needed to defend himself, he could overpower her with the knowledge he had gained in battles past.

He would not transform, not yet. She's still to wary of him, and he must still gain forgiveness for disrupting her nest and causing her young to panic.

He makes himself content to inhale her scent that wafted with the light breeze. How warm, how 'welcoming' it was. He can smell the fuel she would give to her sparklings, that sweet low-grade that he could not find aboard the Nemesis nor could the drones produce for him to sample. He had tried something that smelled almost like it, a treat made among the faceless Decepticon's and a personal favorite of Knockout's. The red mech had given him a cube when he described what the sparkling fuel smelled like.

The taste was smooth, almost creamy in texture and was served to him warm. _Comfort fuel_, Knockout had said.

Perhaps that was what sparkling fuel tasted like, Predaking muses, but admits to himself that he would not part-take in a younglings only fuel source.

He takes stock in her frame as she begins to finish off the crystal. He would often overhear drones talk of femmes on Cybertron before the war. Lovely beings that came in all shapes and sizes. Some mechs were attracted to those with wings, their frames lithe and dazzling. Others were attracted to Praxians or Datsuns and often admired their chassis.

A small number would comment that they liked frames larger than their own, _more to love_ they would say when met with confusion or laughter. These mechs Predaking could relate to. A small femme or mech just seemed... worthless to him as a mate. Easily crushed, armor to thin, and _barely_ able to defend themselves if not properly trained. No. Using the words from this mech, _I like the big bots._

Predaking had spoken with this mech.

_Most bot's think it's a fetish, and for some, it is. But I've always been attracted to a bot that had a heavier build. I've dated a few miners on Cybertron, I had some great nights with war-builds and I can honestly say that they're the best lovers I've ever had the honor to be with. When you get to know them personally, you notice how gentle they are with others that are smaller. Most of the time they have great jokes about themselves and they're more than okay to laugh at themselves.  
They're okay with their frames. I guess over time they learned to love themselves as they are and it's that confidence that I love._

_Plus, being completely honest Predaking, interfacing with them is amazing, more to touch and kiss._

Predaking had asked him if he would take one as a mate. The drone stated that he would in a spark-beat.

They had spoke together at length, this mech had answered every question Predaking had with a brand of honesty that was rarely seen among the higher ranked officers that the predacon normally conversed with. This mech was open about his adoration of the larger frame types. Predaking knew he was asking odd questions, but once he started he couldn't hold himself back.

In root-mode, he has no doubts that Predaking would likely be taller than him, her limbs would be thicker and he can't help but fantasize what she would look like beside him in a warm and protected nest. The curve of her hips and the thickness of her thighs. Should he cup her aft, it would be more than he could hold in her servos and the thought was _beautiful_.

Predaqueen gulps down the last of the energon, raising her helm to aid the fuel flowing down her throat and into her tanks.

Predaking is instantly aware of this development. There's nothing standing between himself and her now. Those red optics watch him for a few moments, and he keeps himself as still as stone when she begins to approach him. He doesn't move, more so in fear of being maimed.

When she stopped, he was laying in her shadow.

Her muzzle slowly lowered, those jaws just shy of brushing against his polished horns and she started to take in his scent. Does he dare to do the same?

He braces for impact, deep in his chest he starts a deep purring to show his gratitude. Predaqueen pauses, but doesn't act to harm him. A good sign, he thinks with caution.

Predaqueen huffs, her wings fluttering as she finishes her scenting and her inspection of his horns and helm. He takes the chance to scent her as well. Inhaling deeply and registering her natural scent that made his processors reeling.

Without a goodbye, she takes a leap into the air and opens her wings. Being so close to her, he had felt the power in her frame, how fluid her movement was and the sudden shift in the air as she departed from him, returning to her new nest and younglings.

Predaking stays where he is, remaining on his belly.

The first gift was a success! She had accepted it and didn't maim him, even took in his scent. For a standard mech, such a thing would have appeared cold and even harsh on the outside looking in. However, for a predacon, it was more of a form a greeting and acknowledgment. The scenting process is short, registering the scent of another predacon, was an unspoken message that they were worth a short measure of time. A silent promise of future meetings.

Predaking begins to plan his next move. He would return to this location, perhaps it was _close_ to the nest, maybe a few hours flight away but he would be within range of her sensors. He would bring more energon of course, but now he has to think of what else he should bring to appease her.

  
  


* * *

  
  


_Optimus, wrap it up. Scanners indicate that Predaqueen is returning to the nest. Hopefully the solvent is able to hide your scents. Last thing we need is to lose the females location again._

Bumblebee was sitting with the sparklings crawling around his lap, exploring the new and brightly colored beings in the nest. He was taking as many image captures as he could. Mostly for Ratchet so he could begin research on predacons, but also for Miko.

The sparklings tumbled in his lap, batting at each other after loosing interest in Optimus. Arcee hadn't entered the nest at all.

It was worth to note that it appeared that the sparklings were to young to use their ignition chambers, they hadn't attempted to scorch Optimus or Bumblebee. Scans sent to Ratchet had confirmed it. Their frames were still to fragile to handle the intense heat.

“Everything's in place Optimus,” Arcee stated, motioning towards the hidden surveillance system, “Ratchet, how far out is she?”

_She still has a ways to go, but she'll be there within the hour. Be sure to cover any tracks me in or around the nest. I'll have the ground bridge ready when you reach the rendezvous._

  
  


* * *

  
  


Predaqueen lifts her frame through the entrance of the cave, and she's delighted to see her young wrestling in the nest. They pounce and tumble on each other, little wings opening as they shouted and hollered at each other and snapping those little jaws. She purred as she made her way over the ring that kept them inside.

She was properly greeted as her young jumped and patted her muzzle. Rubbing their helms against her own as they took in the scent of their carrier. They purr and chirp and warble and flutter their wings. Curling against the rim, Predaqueen shifts to lay on her side, stretching out her limbs and resting her helm against the soft warm sand. Offering her stomach to them.

Almost instantly, they find the feeding nubs under her plating, and press against her for warmth.

Her levels were close to ninety-seven percent when she had left the male, and she was still above ninety percent and so she would not need to leave the nest for a few cycles more. She relaxes, shuttering her optics and releasing a pleased sigh as her young nurse and press against her. They knead the plating and settle down.

Her sensors still active, she allows herself to fall into a light recharge.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The cameras hadn't been found, and Wheeljack noted that the predacon showed no signs of distress that Optimus and his team had been inside the nest. The carrier was laying on her side, belly facing out with her young nursing. They can hear her purring, they could hear the younglings suckling and making small noises during their meal.

Once again, Optimus is entranced by the level of gentleness that such a massive creature could show. How _small_ those sparklings were, barely the length of her helm when they had pressed against her in greetings and how docile Predaqueen was as she allowed her young as they batted her snout or how they would climb and jump off her like their own personal jungle-gym.

“They're so cute!” Miko gushed, going through the photos on her phone from the nest, “How big were they Bee?”

“A little taller than you, but still small enough to fit in my hand. Playful little things.”


	5. Life

For four days Predaqueen had not left the nest, moving to either nurse her young or to sift through the sands to remove rocks and debris she had not wanted. Ratchet had noted that it was odd to see the predacon snack on raw minerals towards the back of the cave where the rock was a deeper color, almost gray-black and melting it before swallowing. It didn't appear to harm her in the slightest, nor did it alter the taste of the sparkling fuel she provided judging how the younglings showed no differences in behavior during feedings.

The younglings have become more active in the last two days. Leaping with their small wings and flapping them uselessly as they mock charged one another. They leap off their carrier, opening their wings in their attempts to fly, and Predaqueen doesn't try to stop them. Perhaps this was just another stage in their development.

On the fifth day, Predaqueen finally rises from the nest, but this time, she lowers her shoulders and growls sweetly to her brood. Instantly, her little ones clamber aboard her shoulder, and curl up half-way hidden underneath the plating between her wings on her back. “Where is she going?” Smokescreen asked, leaning on the controls as if it could make him see better. “She's not going to find another nest right?”

“I doubt that,” Wheeljack answers, watching the screen. “Maybe she just wants to stretch her wings?”

“Then why would she bring the younglings?”

“Maybe she wants to them to get some fresh air,” Miko stated around a sweet bean bun, her mother had sent her the recipe from Japan and she couldn't help herself and made to many. Jack and Raf also had one in their hands. “Being cooped up for to long is unhealthy, I'm sure mama-dragon would agree.”

Predaqueen leaves the safety of the nest with her young, it was time for them to learn the outside world around them and the only true way to do this was to immerse them within it. She cannot teach them to survive with words, but with action and first-hand experience. She fly's towards the west, heading to a site of energon just under the surface. Something small, to small for her to put forth the effort of digging it up. It would cost more energy than it was worth.

But it was perfect practice for her young to learn to hunt for themselves.

She knows that they are all male, they do not have the same senses as she does, but that did not mean they cannot find energon, they just cannot find it when it is so deep as she can.

She lands softly, not to jostle her young and growl at them to disembark. They obey, and stand in line together, eager to learn from her. They are only feet from the energon. She lowers her helm, taking deep, exaggerated inhales and they copy her. They keep their helms low to the ground, and she pauses where the scent is strongest.

They crawl around the scent of energon, it smells like their fuel from their carrier, but at the same time, it is different and its interesting to them. What was it? Where was it?

When they begin to search for it on their own, she encourages them as they start to scratch at the ground. Using those little claws, they dig.

Her wings flutter when they finally succeed in unearthing the small roots, and they pat and paw at it. Knowing it is energon, and when they bite at it, they learn that it is hard and their jaws cannot break it. Predaqueen hums when they finally lose interest in what would one day become future meals, and takes advantage. She swallows the energon whole, chewing as her young watched her take fuel for herself. Most of it goes to her main tanks, while a portion is directed to be further purified for sparkling fuel.

She beckons her little ones to fallow her on foot. Moving after being inert felt good, and being outside would get her young accustomed to the world under her protection. They stick close to her, her youngest kept under her frame, walking between her front legs as his brothers trot and inspect everything around them.

They travel towards a section of land littered with large rocks. Predaqueen has her optic on one rock in particular. She barks, and her young stand at attention. Hefting her upper frame up, she begins to rake her talons upon the rock, sharpening her claws.

The young chirp, and copy her at a lower level. When she sharpens her horns, rubbing her helm against the same rock, they do the same, if a little clumsy but they're trying their best with their still dull horns.

They continue on with their journey on the ground. They keep pace with her, and another hour passed before she stopped and exposes her belly to them to fuel. They take it with gusto and she remains on her belly after they had finished. They all stay within her sight, and they explore all that they can about the world around them.

Biting rocks. Chasing a small organic creature with large ears. She makes herself comfortable once more, relaxing her wings and crossing one paw over the other as she keeps watch for dangers.

The sunlight warmed her plating, the air was still and calm and the gentle breeze carried only the scent of the dry soil.

They have to get to know the world, one day, the necessity of a nest would be obsolete and they would become nomadic, never staying in one place for to long. They were meant for long travels, going where the fuel had grown large and plentiful and giving the old location a chance to recuperate. However, they would only begin traveling then their wings had become strong enough to carry their frames.

Carrying them on her back is always an option, but she cannot defend herself, they can't hold on if she were to need to travel fast and hit something hard. Death from falling from the sky was a shameful way to die.

She huffs, watching as her young play fight, instinctively training for the future. Their little paws kick up dirt and dust, little jaws nip at each other as they chase another tail and squeal as if threatening one another. It's good to see them move around freely, she thinks to herself.

Play fighting is instinctive. Preparation for true battles that they would no doubt endure further into the future. Their jaws are not yet strong enough to really damage each other, and their talons and horns are still blunt.

Predaqueen looks over their wings. They're still developing, still to small and weak to carry their frames. When her pups are weaned off nursing from her directly, they would begin to ingest raw material, and their wings would then go through an uncomfortable phase of several growth spurts and then their frames would have to play catch-up.

Until then, they would be anchored to the land, and Predaqueen is thankful for that. She doesn't want to think about them flying on their own just yet. The thought of it makes her plating puff out.

Over the next six days, Ratchet and Wheeljack watch over the blip on the monitor that was the tracking system on the thick hide of Predaqueen. The cameras in her den confirm that she takes her children from the nest every day on her back and land somewhere within a two-hundred mile radius of the nest. Only twice during those six days, did she not return to the same location.

On the fourth day, Bumblebee and Wheeljack had been sent out to scout the favored location of the predacon. What made it so interesting to make Predaqueen return again and again with her young?

Mineral samples and image captures explained it all. The site was far away from human interference, rarely traveled even by domestic air-craft and lower in air pollution. It was peaceful. The area was relatively private, almost hidden by natural rock formations filled with crevices and hiding places, should something dare to get to close, her young could hide while Predaqueen defends her family.

Going over the mineral samples show small traces of raw energon. Nothing worth trying to mine, as the energy required to take it would outweigh the energy that would be returned, had Ratchet and Wheeljack scratching their helms in how and why such a thing mattered to the adult predacon. Even she knew that such small energon roots were worthless.

So, on the fifth night, Bumblebee had set up a remote camera where the most activity had been reported from the amount of tracks and holes the younglings had left behind.

The next day, they watch as Predaqueen teach her young how to _locate and extract_ raw energon.

Both mechs, Ratchet and Wheeljack, are pacing in opposite directions as they began to debate on how such a thing, without specialized scanners and tools, was possible. Optimus and Jack watch from the sidelines, often glances towards the screen as the blue predacon-youngling finds yet another lavender shard to show his carrier his success.

“Perhaps there's something built-in.” Wheeljack thinks out loud, “Maybe a primitive scanner? There's never been a complete skeleton found so we don't know much about how their processor are formed or functionality.”

“But _what _exactly helps them? Even the most advanced scanners can't penetrate so deep under the surface to find energon.”

“Maybe it uses a sonar system?”

“No, no, sonar can't pick up energon underground in any shape or form... unless the sonar doesn't function in the traditional sense...”

Jack honestly stopped listening when the two began to debate using words with more than four syllables and ever sentence was more than twenty seconds long. He stood with Optimus, enjoying the show of predacons practicing their hunting skills like it was a nature documentary without narration.

“...can you tell me why Ratchet and Wheeljack are in science mode? What's so special about finding raw energon? I get that it can be tricky, but it can be done.”

Optimus glances down at the young human. “Raw energon is found in a crystal form, super-condensed fuel created over millions of years of pressure and heat. Once processed, the energy out-put is more than enough to fuel our frames and our sparks. However, raw energon is found deep underground, and often far to deep to catch on any radar that isn't intentionally designed to pick up the slight wave-lengths that the material gives off. It's often mistaken for radio waves that occur naturally from the planet. To put it simply, it can be tricky to locate, other materials can give off a signal that is almost identical.”

“So if primitive cybertronian life could find energon, why can't you guys?”

“Over time, it is believed that primitive mechs found energon that was exposed and close to the surface. Energon roots begin deep underground, but grow towards the surface like a tree. When an exposed root was found, all we had to do was dig deep. I don't believe we ever had the ability to find it like a predacon.”

It was an odd train of thought as Jack tried to fallow in a way he could understand. He doesn't completely understand how _robots_ could _evolve_.

“How exactly does that work? Evolution for Cybertronians?” Jack shifted his weight, “I thought you guys upgraded your frames.”

“It is believed that primitive life on my planet 'grew' into new armor. Over their lifetime, they would ingest raw material native to the planet, and their frames would process this material and slowly increase its mass. Armor would become denser over time, new layers building underneath the old armor, and when the new armor was ready, the old armor was shed. While the new armor is still soft, the frame would expand and grow. I believe some insects on earth use this method to grow larger.”

Jack could understand that. “I guess that makes sense, there wouldn't have been medics during those days.”

“Indeed. This system of taking in raw material also doubles as a self-repair, but we have only theories of how effective it was but it is widely accepted that the self repair during this time was far better than a modern mechs self repair.”

It almost sounded _organic_ in the way that they grew, Jack thought to himself.

Miko bounced on the couch as she turned to face the tall Autobot, “So Optimus, any plans to make friends with Predaqueen yet?”

Everyone knew she just wanted to see the younglings.

“Not at this present time.” The Prime admitted, “The danger of getting to close to the younglings while she is present is to high. I cannot risk the lives of my teammates while Predaqueen is so protective of the sparklings. We will continue to monitor them from afar until further notice.”

“Can I come with you when you visit the babies again?”

“Unfortunately you cannot.”

“What about getting more pictures for me then?”

“Ratchet is currently creating smaller, more complex trackers that will be placed on the younglings. We'll be able to monitor their location, and their growth rate from the main computer. He and Wheeljack have partnered up to possibly give us more visual feed when they leave the nest.”

Miko grinned wide, already thinking about all the different wallpapers she could switch out with _baby robot dragons_. “That would be great!” She states excitedly, “It'll be like watching a live-stream of animal planet!”

* * *

Predaqueen travels today on foot rather than in the air. Her young prance around her feet as, once again, she teaches them to survive. She's already fueled, her levels reading almost ninety-five percent, but they're not looking for energon roots today.

Her young must know the scent of material they need to grow properly. They're still a long way from eating it, their teeth still to soft to dent any sort of ore but knowing the scent will one day save them. Predaqueen keeps her senses trained on the familiar scent of iron and steel, there's something out here and she needs it herself.

The scent is getting stronger, it's not moving. An easy meal.

A few miles later, she finally comes across the source of the scent. She had seen these things before, the small organic creatures ride inside them but this one is covered in sweet rust and left broken and ripe for the taking. The wheels are gone, and its interior was rotted and so much easier to scrap out.

As she devours the steel, ripping it into smaller, manageable pieces. Her ignition chamber expands, taking in air to stoke the fire as as the steel reaches her throat, it's heated so her mandibles can bend it smaller to safely travel down her throat and into her secondary tank. Her frame would process this material as it would energon crystals. Super-heating what was taken in and pushing it through several filters before it would enter specialized lines throughout her frame to be properly distributed.

Any damage to her frame would be repaired first, and only a small portion would travel to her feeding lines to which her young would ingest. Their frames are still to young to properly process raw iron or steel, and would have to be slowly introduced to allow systems to integrate and get to know the quality of the material given to them.

She's only a quarter of the way through her meal when something else picks up on her scanner. She growls deep as she lifts her helm, her children scuttle to take cover under her frame.

There's nothing on the ground, her scanners are pinging from in the air. She tilts her helm up, and her optics are quick to catch sight of what was setting off her scanners.

They're mostly black in color, silver here and there but they all wear the same purple shape on their wings. They're rather small, almost slender, and had her young not been present, she would have ignored them entirely.

Her wings lift from her back, and she lowers her stances as she bares her teeth and her ignition chamber and active and ready for combat. Talons kneed the dirt, and she's processing the disturbances in the air currents with her wings.

The thin membrane was riddled with sensors, their main function is to keep her frame level and make constant, unconscious, adjustments during flight. However, they're strong enough to detect changes in air pressure, the ever so slight vibrations carried in the air caused by the wings of others or these creatures that fly with stiff wings.

Predaqueen can't help but think of them as _lesser things_, what was the point of having wings if you could not use them to their full potential? How could one survive without mobility? These creatures were rather disgusting.

Instinct and thought go to war.

Instinct states that these _things _were prey. _Fresh material_. How delightful it sounded to her.

Thought states that these _things_ were predators. Her young were here and not in the safety of the nest, she must defend them. The things make a wide circle above her, she knows they're planning to attack.

Predaqueen bellows out a warning, the fire glowing in her maw as her wings stretch out and shake in a threatening display. If she can avoid a fight with her young under her, she will take the chance.

The things circle back, this time performing a steep dive and her sensors pick up the sharp hum of weapon systems priming.

Her armor bristles, and she barks for her young to stick close under her as she trots towards a section of the small canyon where there were so many places for them to hide. She cannot defend herself and them in such close quarters.

Her children scream as the things take shots, they don't hurt her, they deflect off her armor like oil on water, but a single shot could kill one of her brood. She takes every hit with grace and tolerance.

She finds a small tunnel in the rocks and her children bolt for it.

The younglings of predacons, no matter their species, instinctively know what to do when danger approaches. A fight-or-flight situation clicks in their processors.

A predacon nest is doused in the thick musk of the parents, a first line of defense to ward off predators and egg-thieves. The scent of a perfectly healthy adult is far more frightening then that of an infant. However, there are predators that use this as a beacon, to rid future competition or threats _before_ it could grow up to be the dominate predator. A youngling in the nest is hardwired to stand their ground, to press together to appear as one single being and call out for their parents. Their play-fighting could possibly aid them in defending themselves until their parent arrived.

A youngling outside the nest is vulnerable, and they know this. They need to hide, and be still until its safe again.

They dart into the dark hole, just as Predaqueen feels another short rain of fire upon her back. As the last little tail vanishes into the shadows, she turns her frame to face off against the things in the sky.

A single beat of her wings and she's in the air, and all sensors and a majority of her processing power is now geared towards the hunt. The things scatter but they don't escape her sensors.

They make wide circles, they're unable to turn tight or flex their frames as she can, but they have the advantage of speed on their side.

She locks on the thing with blue stripes, it seems to be the slowest of them all. She flies higher and higher, until her plating is pressing against her protoflesh and she folds her wings tight against her frame. Predaqueen nose-dives, her folded wings make slight adjustments to keep on target.

How funny, she thinks to herself, they're attacking directly?

It's a flurry of movement. The drones come, firing uselessly at her. Her wings snap open and she angles her frame to swipe at them with her talons and one of them is knocked from the sky with a sharp twist with her tail.

And in another moment, they were fleeing, leaving the fallen where it lay on the ground in a smoldering wreck. Predaqueen roars out to them, and descending to claim her prize. It had transformed just before it hit the earth, one arm entirely gone, wings ragged and torn and one leg is barely hanging on by its knee.

Predaqueen lands with a thunderous boom, and her prey whines loudly in a tongue that means nothing to her. Its wounded, she approaches with caution, it's not yet dead. It's trying to crawl back with its remaining limbs, turning into its belly as if it would get away any faster.

She slams a massive paw on its back, and thrusting her helm down, she makes quick work on detaching its head from its frame, and finally, it falls limp and colors drain away. Its helm is tossed to the side.

Her children peep, and Predaqueen purrs as she starts to devour the remains of the drone. Fresh and still warm steel is always preferable to old and rusted over, no matter how sweet the rust was, her frame would process it easier, and adding its material to her frame would feel smoother. Her children trot to her, sniffing around her meal as she makes work with its wings, tearing off pieces and heating them.

The processed energon leaking from its frame tastes _disgusting_, and when she tears off an arm, she shakes the limp to force out the bitter fluid. Whatever it was eating, it certainly wasn't pure.

She pays no attention to the silver speck high out of range of her sensors, only minding her children as they bat around the helm of her meal.

* * *

It was a startling discovery, Starscream circles high over the predacon, that it saw mechs as _prey_. It was eating a drone, killing it quickly and _devouring_ its frame. The thought of working so close with a predacon makes his plating flutter in fear. When would Predaking finally snap and eat them?

He's feeding a live-stream to the Nemesis command bridge, and he has little doubt that Megatron is watching the apex predator eat one of his soldiers. Perhaps this would finally convince the old fool to get rid of the predacons for good this time.

Starscream's hopes were dashed when he returns to the command hub, Megatron is watching how the predacon fought in the air. Despite its grand size, it moved with a calculated grace even seekers could not manage. It had one goal in mind, survival.

It was _thriving_. It could care for itself and its young. But how? Where was it getting fuel? It wasn't taking fuel from the fallen drone, refusing to as it shook out its energon.

“My lord Megatron, I insist that we do away with these _beasts_.” Starscream seethed, “If we cannot control this monster than we must destroy it.”

It's no secret that Starscream detested the predacons, Megatron straightens his back, crossing his arms and taps a finger under his elbow as he thinks on the footage before him.

The mech that was devoured, a drone, was still a loss on their numbers, and the drone's squad-mates were hysterical upon arrival. There was nothing they could do to help their teammate. He had been begging for his life, and yet the predacon did not acknowledge any word from the drone.

It ended his life without a moment of hesitation.

For once, Megatron thinks upon Starscream's request.

Truthfully speaking, the probability of him controlling the female was slim to none. The resources it would require and the number of soldiers that _will_ be lost in the attempt to contain the beast was to great. It wasn't a _simple animal_, as Megatron had found Predaking not to be. This was a conscious being, self aware and dangerous. It could think, strategic, and it could execute those strategies with remarkable ease and without remorse.

This was an apex predator. It didn't fear them, it saw them as _food_ and _prey_. There was no _controlling_ an apex predator.

The once-poet in Megatron detested having to bring down such a magnificent creature, but the warlord knows there might not be another option.

“...Soundwave, where is Predaking?”

The hub locates the resident predacon in an instant. The large mech is currently within the servos of Knockout.

“...Starscream, your report states that there are three younglings?”

The seeker narrows his optics, “Correct my lord.”

Megatron pauses the video, the image of the younglings visible for a moment as they take cover under their carrier.

Megatron grins wide, “Soundwave, construct a cage for them. If Predaqueen will not come to me willingly, then she will come for the sake of her young.”


	6. Harm

It's been almost three weeks since the confirmation that Predaqueen would, in fact, eat them alive if given the choice. It was a change that Raf had seen in the Autobots, when regarding Predaqueen, had witnessed in an instant. Ultra Magnus had almost been seething as the Decepticon life-signal vanished. Predaqueen had taken a life.  
But Raf believes the blue Autobot was frustrated more when Optimus had attempted to defend Predaqueen actively killing a mech.  
“Her children were present, and the Decepticons were a threat. It is only natural that she would defend her children.” Optimus had stated, “Ultra Magnus, we cannot be so quick to demonize, we are not so different.”

“We are not animals.” Magnus roughly sighed, “We don't eat each other.”

“That is true for us, but remember, Predaqueen is a predacon. She will naturally see another species as prey.”

The scene on the monitor had been paused, the moment Predaqueen had begun to eat the deceased drone, her wings open wide and her jaws spread to tear it apart.  
For months they had tracked the predacon, tracking the growth of her young and her traveling habits. Predaqueen avoided human settlements and roads. She was not an immediate threat, she did not actively hunt for Cybertronians and had no interest in organic life.

But events have reminded them that Predaqueen was still a predator, and she was a predator that would eat them alive if she chose to.  
Ultra Magnus could not tear his optics from the image of the powerful creature. “Prime. Sir. How much longer until it begins to hunt human vehicles? Before human lives are at stake? Before it kills?”

Optimus said nothing, keeping only a neutral expression and a straight stance. “Sir!” the Magnus stressed, “We cannot ignore the danger it could bring to this planet! To this war!” The mech stomped to the side, “How much longer can we wait until Megatron puts a choler and a leash on that beast? And when he does, what will we do when he sets it loose on us?!”

“Ultra Magnus. I understand your concerns. We knew from the beginning that Megatron would act to gain control over Predacon. This was not an attempt to gain control of Predaqueen. Megatron would not have sent simple drones for such a task. I believe he wanted to test her capabilities in battle.”

“Why would he do that?” Miko asked, “Predaqueen is a giant robotic dragon that kicked Predaking's tail like it was nothing.”

“He must be planning an attempt to control Predaqueen. Having two predacons under his command would give him a great advantage.”

Smokescreen turns his helm away from the screen. “What if we made contact with Predaqueen?” He proposes, Ratchet gritting his teeth and hands were poised to throttle the youngest of the group. “Like away from the nest and no baby-dragons around. Maybe offer her a position on team Prime?”  
In the background noise, Miko was very supportive. Ultra Magnus stared into nothing for a moment, his lips in a deep frown, deeper than usual. Ratchet had placed a hand on the Magnus' shoulder before he blew a relay. “Smokescreen, are you saying that we just, walk up to Predaqueen and have peace talks?”  
“...Yeah. I mean, why not?” Smokescreen countered, “We all know that Predaking is a sentient being. He's fallowing Megatron at his own choice, so, why wouldn't Predaqueen make her own choice? All we have to do is put the offer on the table and maybe she won't fry our bumpers.”

“Well,” Miko invested herself into the conversation, placing herself on Bulkheads shoulder, “If I was a single mother on her own, I'd would love to have people around me helping me out. Think about it guys! I mean, seriously think out it! Predaqueen would be awesome! She can set things on fire! She beat up Predaking!”

“Optimus,” Raf spoke up, “Maybe we should really think about this. Consider how much help she would be. She's supporting herself and her kids by herself, but we've been tracking her, and not once has she been in a Decepticon energon mine, active or abandoned. We know that predacons can find energon, but we just don't know how. Ergo, she would be able to find raw energon for the team. We know that she can hold her own in a fight. If we were to convince her that her kids would be safe in the base, she could make a... nest here, out of danger and hidden from the Decepticons.”

“Prime, I've got to agree with the kid.” Wheeljack shifted his weight, “Strategically speaking, she would give us a huge advantage. Alone, she's worth a whole battalion of soldiers.”  
Optimus sighed. “...I would have to deliberate on this matter. I must agree with both Smokescreen and Wheeljack, Predaqueen would be a great resource in this war. However, I must also agree with Ultra Magnus, Predaqueen is dangerous, and there is a chance that she would see us as a meal rather than comrades... We must also remember that Predaqueen is a carrier with creations that cannot survive without her. If I can, I would rather her not be in this war at all.”  
“Megatron wouldn't care about the young'ns.” Wheeljack stated, “If anything, they'd be tools to better control Predaqueen. All the more reason....”

“So she took the energon and then...”  
The moment that Predaking had returned, he almost immediately made a bee-line for the med-bay. The red medic amused as he watched Predaking pace with excitement, wing struts clicking and plating puffing and relaxing. “She approached me!”

Knockout's face fell from amused to disappointed. “...she approached you?”

“She took in my scent, and I was able to take hers as well.” Predacons were a level of strange Knockout didn't want to touch, if only they weren't so interesting. “I was able to see her up close... I need more energon the next time I come to her. Perhaps another gift...”  
“Were the younglings with her?”  
“No.” Predaking stated quickly, “I would not dare an attempt to contact her with younglings close by. She is still unsure of me and my intentions and would not tolerate it.”  
“So, does this mean that she acknowledges your courtship?”

“Not exactly. This gift was more of an apology for my actions during our first encounter. A courtship gift requires more. I would need energon, raw metal and precious stones and metals so that she can decorate her nest.”  
Knockout tapped his chin, “When you say precious stones, are you speaking of crystals and gem-stones? Why would she decorate her nest? I would believe she would want it to be as concealed as possible.”

Predaking's wings clicked. “It is something more like a message to outsiders. More stones may tell others that the female is being courted by several males at once, or that her current mate is an outstanding provider.” Predaking sighs, sitting on a chair at the unused office desk in the med-bay. “If we had been on Cybertron, her nest would have been located somewhere within the high mountain ranges or within a community of nesting females... perhaps it is to early to build a nest for her...”

“Perhaps.” Knockout agreed. “Another question if I may, do predacons mate for life? As in one partner or would the female choose another when she wants more eggs?”

“...we do not mate for life, at least, I don't believe so. If we were to have young, and they were finally able to leave the nest, there would be no reason for her to stay. There are no eggs to care for, no reason for me to provide. Perhaps if I proved myself worthy, she would allow me to remain at her side.”

Knockout hummed, finally deciding on a wax and he prepares the buffer. It wasn't the answer to what he had asked, but Knockout honestly wonders if predacons were even capable of feeling affection or even inclined to romantic impulses.

However, it made sense. They were a wild and feral species at one point in time. They lived hard, they fought to survive every cycle and 'romance' would not be a term they would be familiar with. They reproduced to keep their populations stable and ensure their CNA would be passed to the next generation. Simple biology. There is no thought process other than to survive and reproduce.

'How sad,' Knockout thought to himself. “Perhaps she will.” At the very least, Knockout would aid him in getting a fighting chance. “But first, let’s buff out those unsightly marks, I'm sure there's a handsome predacon under all that dirt. Can you lean forward? I can't reach those struts of yours.”

Her young are growing, Predaqueen notes with a gentle pride, their bodies are still small, and their wings still cannot carry them, but they were putting on more weight and their armor was beginning to add its first layer, one of many that would overlap in time.

Their little trips out of the nest were starting to show their progress as Predaqueen hunts for more material that would mix with their fuel. She finds many things in the lone desert, precious iron and minerals soft enough for her to grind and mix in her tanks.

The sun was high in the sky, the dirt fluttered beneath her talons as she traveled with her brood leading the way. Today, they had been tasked with finding energon on their own. She had brought them to a location with many small hotspots, this time she would not aid them in finding fuel. They needed to locate the energon crystals and dig it up themselves.

Her eldest kept his had low, from time to time, he would pause and sniff the dirt, paw at it and then move on. There was no energon there, but he knows its somewhere close. She follows them, allowing them to take the lead of the hunt. While they do so, she began to think more of her brood. They had survived long enough that their frames began to add on their first layers of armor. They needed names, but they would need to earn them.  
For now, they needed to learn how to survive, and so Predaqueen followed their lead. It wasn’t until a loud squeal from her youngest child that captured her attention. His dark blue plating fluttered in his excitement, and he veered off from the others with this head low to the ground and his purple optics wide. The others tried to call him back, but he was persistent.  
The primal need for them to stay together is what made the other two followed in their youngest brothers’ steps. He had his nose in the first, huffing and sniffing until he began to circle a spot of flat ground. Predaqueen could smell it, but she made no move to aid them as they began to furiously dig.

Talons raked the dirt, pushing away soil and stone until they began to see the first roots of energon. They chittered and bleated in accomplishment, digging and digging until the first root was free from the earth. It took two younglings to tug it out as the third chewed at the base.

They presented the root to her, nosing it closer and standing side by side awaiting her judgment. Predaqueen lowered her helm and inspected the energon. The root was strong, and the color was light as it should be. There was no signs of rot or infection from old energon left to the elements. A good find that she would consume.  
She purrs to them, taking the energon between her mandibles and making short work in crushing it and swallowing.

Ratchet hummed, extremely interested in how, even as a sparkling, a Predacon could locate energon without the use of modern scanners. Bumblebee had been the one to volunteer in following the small family, to prepare themselves for contacting the predator, but Ratchet was fascinated in watching a youngling Predacon locate a source of energon. The yellow scout is hidden behind some rocks, wedging himself as tight as possible to get the best possible view.  
Miko squealed at the sight of wriggling Predacon younglings. “Oh my gosh! Look at them! They’re so chubby!” The teenager was taking several photographs with her phone of the screen. The younglings appeared to be a healthy weight. Their limbs are short, their tails are round, but their wings seemed to small to lift their frames yet. “Chubby dragons!”  
“Bumblebee, zoom in on the younglings if you can.”

The image shakes a little, but the camera focuses and zooms in as Ratchet had requested. “Huh… interesting…”  
“What?” Jack asked, taking his eyes off his phone to the hub.

“From what I can see, their armor doesn’t cover their whole frame. Look, there’s no armor on their joints, their stomachs or the undersides of their necks. Perhaps it comes later in their development? If I could get a clear scan of one of them… perhaps we could learn and replicate how they find energon. It’s fascinating how a Predacon can ingest raw energon, I can’t imagine what their filtration systems are like.” Ratchet leaned over the controls, wanting nothing more then to get a better insight in the inner workings of a Predacon.

“Well,” Raf began, “Maybe you can if we can get on peaceful terms with Predaqueen.”

The children were sent home before the sun went down, their respective guardians remaining at their domiciles as per Optimus’ orders. In the relative peace of the base, Ratchet sat down at the table with Optimus to his left, Ultra Magnus to his right, Wheeljack and Smokescreen. Why Smokescreen was attending this meeting, Ratchet didn’t ask. Perhaps the youngster just wanted to be next to Optimus Prime.  
Ratchet lays down the data-pad fill with information collected about the Predacons they had been observing for the last few weeks. Complete with current flight patterns, hotspots they would visit often and the location and detail of the nesting site.

“Our current mission is to ensure the safety of the nest,” Optimus declared firmly, “My wish that they would not be involved in this war is not the same wish shared by Megatron. He has already sent drones to test the capacities of Predaqueen in battle and I have no doubt that he is devising a way to get her under Decepticon control. We cannot allow another Predacon to join his ranks. So, our current task is to think of a way to peacefully bring Predaqueen and her family into the Autobot fold. I have spoken with Ratchet and we are prepared to section off an unused sector of the base to act as her new nest is she chose to do so.”

Ratchet activated a hologram, giving the team a visual of a section of land that Predaqueen often visited for energon. “Within the next three days, Predaqueen will leave her younglings in the nest to unearth energon on her own. I believe this would be the safest time to make contact. When her young are nearby, she will perceive us as a threat to her children and she will react accordingly. However, I believe she can be reasoned with when her children are absent.”

“What’s stopping her from eating us alive?” Ultra Magnus interrupted, “We all saw what she did to that drone. She ate him.”

“Because the drone was a threat,” Wheeljack countered, “They were shooting at her and her kids. If I had sparklings I would have done the same. Also consider that no matter how smart she is, she is still a predator, and they won’t say no to the opportunity of a meal.”

Ratchet nodded. “Wheeljack is correct. Yes, she is still a predator, but so is Predaking. If Predaking can claim loyalty to the Decepticon cause, then Predaqueen can make her own choices if presented with them. To answer your question, we have prepared an… offering to gift to Predaqueen.”

“Offering? Are we stooping to levels of savages now?” Ultra Magnus bit, lacing his fingers together. “What offering? Our energon supplies cannot be given as a ‘gift’, we are struggling enough as it is.”

“Not energon.” Optimus confirmed, “Observing Predaqueen we have found that she will also ingest raw minerals. Iron. Nickle. Steel. She has yet to turn away any manner of material that we have seen. Our liaison has acquired retired vehicles from a salvage yard for this purpose. Wheeljack and Bulkhead have melted them down and purified them.”  
“I will make first contact with Predaqueen,” the Autobot leader stated as a fact, “Alone. Of course, Ratchet will man the ground bridge if talks go south. Our conversation will be uplinked in real-time to the hub. When Predaqueen is alone, I will make myself known. I do not wish to surprise her, she must see me coming.”

“Hopefully,” Ratchet sighed, “She will stand her ground. Once you are within a recommended distance of ten yards, Optimus, you will set the gift on the ground. Make it clear that you are not there to fight. Keep your distance even when, if, she accepts the gift. If it looks like she’s going to attack, leave immediately. We cannot lose you Optimus.”

“I am aware of the danger, but we must try. I have faith that she will listen to reason.” Optimus moved the visual to allow them to see a wider scan of the area. He tapped the screen twice, the lined image of Predaqueen and the lined image of himself appearing instantly. “Predaqueen will likely come from the same direction, the west. This here,” he draws a wide circle of land, “Is where she frequently digs for energon. I will station myself here before she arrives.”

“I don’t think you should go alone.” Ultra Magnus tightened his fingers, “At least allow someone to remain hidden should you need to make an escape.”  
“I know my friend, but the chances of her detecting another Autobot is not something I can ignore. The danger would be too great and I cannot risk the life of another.”  
“And yet you risk your own life.” Ultra Magnus grimaced, “Sir. Allow me to accompany you.”

“My decision stands Ultra Magnus. You will remain on standby on the ground bridge should I require backup. I know that you have no trust in Predacons but have trust in me.”

Four days later, Ratchet had called everyone to the main control hub to announce that Predaqueen was on the move. She was flying due west, straight towards the energon deposit she visited time and again like clockwork. Visuals from the nest had confirmed it. Her three children were wrapped around each other, settling down into recharge as their carrier left them to fuel herself. It would be less than an hour before she reached her destination. She did not stay for long.

“Optimus!” Ratchet began to punch in the coordinates as Bulkhead approached with the ‘gift’, “She’s getting into position. When she’s within range, I will bridge you to the location and await further instruction… Are you sure you want to do this?”

Optimus took hold of the gift, a box of steel molded into bars. He can smell the nickel, the iron, was that a sprinkle of energon? Bulkhead must have noticed this and sheepishly grinned. “She might like it better if it's sweetened. I know I do.”  
“Thank you, Bulkhead. Ratchet. I am ready.”  
“Glad you’re prepared Opening the ground bridge now.”  
Ratchet began to pray this wouldn’t be the last time his friend and leader stepped through the swirling green tunnel, but nothing was ever certain in war or Predacons.

The flight was enjoyable. The air was hot and crisp as it buffeted against her frame, stretching out her wings and working out the kinks in her plating from enduring time walking on the surface with her young. She would have wanted nothing more than to stay with them, but she needed to focus on digging for the energon deep underground, and she could afford to be distracted should her children be targeted for attack. A few precious seconds is all a predator needed to end their lives. She couldn’t risk it. So she would leave them in the safety of the nest, right after fueling they would curl up and recharge and she took advantage of the silence to search for more fuel.

Finally entering the territory where energon is more plentiful, her optics find a sight that was not there before. From a distance, she can see a figure standing on two legs with bright red armor and blue optics. It was not the male; no sane male would dare approach her in such a vulnerable state. So, the question on her mind was who this new being was and if she should be offended. Did he believe she was weak? Did he think she would not eat him?

She’s hungry and irritable. If this new male was not worthy of attention she would make a meal of him, solving two problems at once.

Predaqueen lands several yards away from him with a thunderous boom. Her claws digging into the ground as she raised her helm over his and her optics trained on this new figure.

He was not a predacon. There were so sharp claws, no wings and his armor seemed so fragile. He didn’t appear to be a threat, but appearances can be deceiving. She takes a heavy step towards him, growling in warning. This was her territory, she would not share the energon beneath their feet.  
Despite her threatening display, he did not move. His optics remained tied to hers, he did not draw a weapon or unsheathe claws she could not see. “Greetings Predaqueen. I am Optimus Prime. Leader of the Autobots.”

The being speaks in a deep tone, it makes her wonder how old he was. He was carrying a box, the box he set down and removed the lid and set it aside. “I am here as a friend. I hope that you will allow me to speak with you. I do not know the proper manner of greeting a Predacon, so I hope you will like this gift myself and my team have made for you.”  
Predaqueen scents the air, the sweetness of iron and energon beckon her processors to turn from ‘predator mode’ to ‘investigation’. She keeps her helm high over his as she approaches, and she finds delight in him taking a step back for every step she takes forward. Perhaps he had taken some cues from the male.

He does not bare his throat, He keeps his shoulders and his back straight when he gives her the room to finally inspect the gift. She growls at him, her plating fluttering and her wings shaking, and he takes another step back. He does not break optic-contact with her.

For one so small, she cannot help but respect the fearlessness he extruded. The male feared her, an element she found weak and undeserving. This male kept up his guard, he knows that she can attack him if she so chose and she can respect that.

The sensors in her wings keep track of the new male, her helm points downward to inspect the gift he had presented to her. Bars of iron with a dusted coat of crushed energon greet her. Her mandibles pluck one from the box as she scans it. It’s pure.

She takes a bite, crushing a small portion to confirm her scans. The iron melts quickly when it passed by the ignition chamber, and her filtration systems have no trouble breaking it down and allowing through her frame to repair minor damage and into the fuel she would give to her children.  
She will accept this gift, and she would allow this being to speak.

Predaqueen brings the box closer to her, without words she takes ownership of it and she raises her helm to once again meet optics with the being still standing tall in the short distance. He does not approach her again.

“I am glad you have found it to your liking. I regret that I cannot offer more at this time, that is all I can offer for the moment. I come to you in peace, some short time ago I was witness to you being attacked with your children present. You fought valiantly to defend them. The ones who attacked you were ordered to do so by a mech designated as Megatron, the leader of the Decepticons.”

So, Optimus lead the clan of Autobots, and this ‘Megatron’ must be the rival clan Decepticons. She wonders why she had never seen other clans, perhaps she had chosen an isolated valley to make her nest, more reason to remain where she was. But the information made her want to find this mech and destroy him. She waits for Optimus to continue.  
“I believe that he will attack your nest, he will do whatever he must to ensure that you obey him, even if it means to harm your children to do so. I have no doubt that you can defend your young, I do not mean to say that you are weak, but Megatron is cruel and ruthless. I fear what he may do if he does find your nest.”  
Her nest was safe! She snarls, slamming her tail on the ground. Optimus remains poised and firm in his stance. “I believe the Predacon loyal to him is currently searching for the location of your nest, a male Predacon designated as Predaking. You have encountered him before.”

The male! Oh, she was going to tear him apart and leave him to the scavengers, he wouldn’t be worth eating! How dare he! How dare he put her nest in danger! Her ignition chamber is hot and ready for battle, she’s already thinking of all the things she would do to the male.

“Please. Calm. Predaking has been deceived. He believes that Megatron will show mercy upon you and your children, but I know Megatron better. Do not take your anger out on him. I wish to make you can offer that you are free to refuse. It is your choice.”

Predaqueen is about to open her wings, but Optimus’s optics flash brightly for a moment, and his hand touches the side of his helm and he raises his other hand in a motion to ‘stop’. “Ratchet? What’s wrong?”

The words that come from this mechs mouth make her spark drop ice cold.

“Please. Calm.” Predaqueen is snarling and slamming her tail into the ground. Rocks turn to dust from the force. “Predaking has been deceived. He believes that Megatron will show mercy upon you and your children, but I know Megatron better. Do not take your anger out on him.”  
His communication comes to life. ‘Optimus! Optimus! Respond!’ “I wish to make you an offer that you are free to refuse. It is your choice.”  
He responds as requested. ‘Ratchet. I am-‘ He was cut off.

‘Get out of there immediately! Right now! Nest! They’re at the nest!’ The words are jumbled, he can hear the frantic shouting of Ultra Magnus and Bulkhead and Smokescreen in the background. He can hear them preparing for battle. Optimus does something he had not wanted to do, turning his full attention to his communication line and using his hand, as if it would hold the Predacon back, to listen. “Ratchet? What’s wrong?”

‘Decepticons are at the nest! They are attacking the nest as we speak! Predaqueen won’t get there in time! I’m sending Wheeljack and Ultra Magnus to the nest right now!’  
“How did they find the nest?”

Predaqueen screams loud, immediately abandoning the gift and shooting off into the sky. Her wings beat fast, carrying her bulk as fast as she could to reach her children. She’s miles away when Ratchet opens the ground bridge and Optimus runs through it.  
He returns to the base empty-handed, “What’s happening!?”

The visual feed from the nest. Parts of the nest is destroyed, melted from plasma blasters. The wails of the three younglings fill the audio as they scurry towards the back of the nest. They were screaming and hollering as a team of eight seeker-drones surround them with blasters primed and ready. All three were walking backwards, and only stopped when they hit their hind quarters with the steep wall of the nest.  
“No! Ratchet!”  
“Ready! Bridging you directly to the nest!”  
“Autobots! Defend the nest at all costs!”

Bridging into the cave of the nest they were immediately fired on. There was no place to hide or take cover from. Wheeljack deflected most of the blasts with his swords, and Bulkhead relied in the thickness of his armor as he barreled through the wall of drones with a swing of his hammer. Arcee used her small stature to her advantage, constantly moving side to side to avoid being hit in the tight space.

The younglings wailed, tiny wings flapping as they turned around to try and escape the high wall of the nest.  
“Pest!” A drone growled, pointing his blaster just as a youngling with dark blue plating reached the rim and tried to pull himself over. Optimus felt time slow down when the weapon fired, and the high-pitched wail of pain filled the cave.

“No!”

The youngling dropped to the ground, wriggling in the sand as he tried again and again to right himself. However, the blast had struck his hind leg, the joint in his hip melted and his own weight crushing the still tender metal. His wings beat rapidly as his brothers tried in vain to help him. Optimus ignored the searing impacts of the blasters to reach them.  
There was a thunderous boom that shook the cave, and the sunlight was blocked by several hundred tons of enraged carrier as she finally arrived from her flight to save her children. Predaqueen roared loud enough to shake the ground and make the walls vibrate in her fury. Her plating puffed out, she opened her jaws as she leapt forward and her jaws clamped down on one drone as her talons found home in the chassis of another. She jumped forward again, using her tail to throw Bulkhead out of the nest and her weight to crush another drone.

Her helm was like a battering ram, a single swing of her neck cleared the path between her and her young. “Prime! We gotta get out! Now!”

Predaqueen positioned herself so that her frame hovered directly over her cowering and wailing children, the injured sparkling still trying to get to his feet. Her chassis nearly touched the ground as her ignition chamber expanded to its fullest. The drones continued to fire, but the blasts did nothing to harm her.

The fire was being stoked in the back of her throat, the white-hot ball swirling. Optimus, as much as it pained him to leave an injured sparkling, turned towards the entrance of the cave. “Autobots! Move!”

They all leaped from the nest-cave, the green bridge opening just before they hit the earth. Behind them, Smokescreen looked back, just in time to see a wall of fire erupt like a volcano. No mech could survive that.

Ratchet’s gaze remained on the visual feed when a drone fired upon the frightened youngling. Miko covered her mouth just before a scream passed her lips as the other two humans were silent in their horror. “Oh Primus!”  
The youngling hit the sand of the nest, energon spilling from its new wound as it cried and writhed in pain and terror. “Optimus! Grab the youngling! He won’t survive that! Optimus!”  
“Ratchet!” Optimus’s voice bled through the speakers, “Open the ground-bridge! Now!”  
Ratchet hit the button without hesitation. Falling into the ground bridge, the team met the floor of the main control room with Smokescreen being the last and Arcee being the first. “Did anyone grab the sparkling?!”

The visual of the nest was suddenly alight, the blast from Predaqueen’s jaws filled the cave with fire and heat. The drones screamed as they were roasted alive and melted into the last positions of curling pathetically or trying to run away. Predaqueen used her wings, the force of wind strong through to throw them out of the cave.  
The walls were partially melted, a large portion of the nest no destroyed from the heat, but none of that mattered as the carrier turned her attentions to her young. Two of them ran up to her muzzle, pressing themselves low to the ground as they moved to position themselves directly under her jaws.  
The third tried to pull himself close to her. Using his remaining limbs to get closer to the only source of protection that he knows. He’s crying, his leg bleeding and sparking and twitching as he tried, again and again, to join his brothers in the safety under their mother.  
He was losing a lot of energon.

Ratchet couldn’t tear his optics from the screen, everyone was quiet. “…he won’t survive that. Optimus, he needs medical attention- “  
“I know.”

Predaqueen barked at her young, two brothers quickly installed themselves onto her back as she took her injured child in her mandibles. The last image of them all as Predaqueen opened her wings and made a quick exit from the nest.

Predaqueen fled the nest, her child crying in her jaws as she tried to fly as fast as possible, as far as possible from the still present danger. She kept low to the ground, avoiding being seen in the open sky when she finally stopped at the edge of the desert and the beginning of a sparse forest. She lands but doesn’t stop moving. Carrying her children still, she gallops between the trees until they were thick enough to block the sky and the sunlight.  
She only stops when she feels her injured child grow limp in her jaws. She huffs, setting him on the ground on his uninjured side to inspect the severity of the damage. His leg was useless, his hip was melted and still bleeding. A major energon line had been torn open from the blast and what she would have to do to save his life would haunt her for many nights.

Her other two remain on her back, pressed close and quiet. Her ignition chamber expands, and she heats her mandibles until they glow. Using a paw, she pins her wriggling child to the ground. She can’t hesitate, he will live.

She presses her hot mandible to the open line, and he wails in pain and tries to escape. She keeps pressing against it until the energon and metal melt and the wound is closed. There’s a small stream a few paces away, and she picks her young up again and slowly places him in the water to cool the heated metal in his hip.  
He’s batting at her muzzle, trying to escape but she holds him firmly. Her spark is churning wild, her frame trembling as she thinks of just how close she had come to losing her entire clutch. How had they found her nest?! How?! She had never been fallowed, there were no past scents of intruders or signs around her territory that a predator had been close. Where had she gone wrong?

Her youngest child finally relents, relaxing as the metal finally cools. He is weak, but he is still breathing, and she can feel his spark beat in her mouth. She picks him back out of the water and carries her family deeper into the woods. He needs to refuel; his levels must be drastically low right now. Her own levels are at sixty-four percent, and she has to manually over-ride her protocols to force her frame to filter twenty-percent of her energon reserves to sparkling fuel.

She stops in a tight grassy clearing, she can’t wait any longer. Her two children disembark and press against her stomach as she lays down, she places her weakest child against her stomach, as close as she can to a feeding nub. He fumbles, and she had to awkwardly drag herself slightly forward, so he can reach but he attaches himself to her and starts to slowly feed.

The other two don’t feed, still too scared and instead press close to their brother and their carrier. She covers them with a large wing, opening vents to keep their temperature stable as the air around them begins to drop with the setting of the sun.

Predaqueen doesn’t recharge that night.


	7. No Matter the Cost

WITH THE TRACKING DEVICE STILL ACTIVE, Ratchet had decided that Arcee would be chosen to investigate if the youngling had survived its injuries. It’s been roughly a week since the drones had attacked the nest, and Predaqueen was constantly on the move within the thick woods, leaving only once for energon and returning within an hour of leaving. Arcee was chosen for the mission as she was the smallest Autobot, less likely to be spotted and easier to hide her motorcycle alt-mode in low bushes if she was able to get close to the younglings.

Every day, returning from school, Miko immediately asked if there had been any updates on the injured sparkling, and much to Ratchets despair, he currently had no information if the sparkling had survived.

“Let me go with her,” Jack begged, “I’m not a threat! I can get close! I know I can!”

“Jack, I know you’re worried about the youngling, but this isn’t up for discussion. It’s too dangerous for humans to get close to her, now she’s on edge and ready to roast anything alive. The answer is no.”

Arcee looked down at the three humans. “Sorry Jack, maybe next time.”

Jack glanced up, but saw that Arcee was smiling down at him, and making a quick glance with her optics from him to the ground-bridge. Miko caught on almost immediately and gave them a wide smile as she jumped down to join them. The dark-haired human smiled wide just as the bridge opened and swallowed them before Ratchet could protest.  
Raf kept quiet, smiling, but quiet.  
  
  
The woods were dark even in the height of the afternoon. The thick trees blocking out the sun. “You two stay close to me,” Arcee ordered quietly, “Don’t make any noise that can draw attention. Predaqueen isn’t far away, but she’ll come back soon. We have a short window and we need to be quick.”

“Right.”  
“Got it.”  
“Okay, let’s move. They’re about a mile ahead of us.”  
  
The area where Predaqueen had taken residence had been burned, patches of dry grass crunching under Miko’s sneakers as Jack stepped over the remains of a bush. The trees were left alone, save for the deep claw marks no doubt made by Predaqueen to mark her new territory. There was a small pond, barely a puddle to the Predacon. Arcee waved her hand, and the humans ducked low behind a fallen tree.  
“Oh, there they are.” Miko whispered, taking out her phone and turning it on silent-mode. She didn’t want to be roasted alive, but she was going to get some close-up photos of the babies. The sparklings were curled up tight against the side of a steep hillside. Optics closed, and wings pressed against each other, from a distance, they could have been mistaken for a jagged rock had it not been for their colors. “Can you see how many there are?”  
“One… two… I think they’re all there. I can’t see…Oh!”

They moved, and there was a moment where Arcee could see dark blue plating of the third sparkling.  
“Shh… keep quiet you two.” They followed her direction, Arcee activated her com-link. “Ratchet. Confirmed sighting of the injured party. They’re all curled up, I can’t see the extent of the damage clearly. Where’s Predaqueen?”

‘Still hunting for energon. It’s the farthest she’s been out so far. Can you get closer?’  
“Not without setting off the alarms. I don’t think we should stress them out.”  
‘Right. Observe them. I’ll bridge you out when Predaqueen is returning to the nest.’  
“Right. Will do Ratchet. Arcee Out.”  
“Alright you two- “  
“Miko’s gone.”

Arcee looked down in shock, only counting one human beside her. Her com-link came back to life.  
‘Arcee. Predaqueen is returning to the nest. Leave immediately.’

“Oh scrap.”  
  
Miko took a step closer to the Predacon as silent as she could, holding her phone with the camera active. From far away, the sparklings looked so small, however now that she was getting up close and personal with them, they were easily the size of a horse.  
She was going to get a good picture of them. She tip-toed closer and closer, ignored the harsh whispers from Jack and Arcee behind her. So close, Miko thought in her excitement. So… close…

Click! -Ca-ching!  
Internally, Miko was beyond ecstatic, in the photo, all three sparklings had their helms raised and looking directly over the camera. Chubby limbs and round bellies pressed against their siblings that Miko took the moment to title the photo as ‘Cuddle-Puddle’ before saving it. She steadied the camera for another photo when a thought struck her.

The predacons were looking at the camera.  
The predacons were looking at the person holding the camera.  
The predacons were looking at her.

Miko froze, her smile faltering for a moment, but waited. They weren’t making noise, they weren’t screaming or wailing in fear of the intruder of the make-shift nest or scrambling to get away. They were still cuddled together, they were just… looking at her.

Miko blinked, her thumb pressing the camera button again and again out of anxiety. She didn’t want to make any sudden movement. The first sparkling to move had black plating with bright blue highlights, blue optics wide with curiosity as he bravely stepped closer to the human.

“…hello.” She smiled wide, waving a hand but kept still as the sparkling got up-close and personal with her. Its shoulder was an inch over her head, “For dragon-baby’s you guys are pretty big.”

Blue optics shuttered for a moment, he pressed his muzzle into the hot-pink portion of her hair. Maybe he liked the color. Blunt mandibles sifted through her hair, she could feel him taking sharp inhales, like a dog investigating a new scent. His little wings fluttered.

A second sparkling, his plating was olive, mustard yellow stripes traveling down his back from head to tail approached to investigate her as well. Golden optics getting right in her face as his own mandibles poked her cheeks and tapped against her earrings. “Well hello there. Guess you don’t know what personal space is do you?”  
The third trilled, fumbling to be with his brothers. He was slow to get to his feet, his back-leg limp and useless as he dragged it behind him. Miko watched him closely, letting the other two do as they pleased with her hair. She could restyle it back at the base. “There you are, I was so worried about you.”

Miko took a step forward, meeting the injured Predacon halfway as it struggled to walk, its tail failing to keep its wobbly balance. Dark blue plating and blazing red stripes decorated his frame, Miko liked his purple optics. The human reached out slowly, fingertips touching the sparklings muzzle and letting him get to know her scent and her hands.  
“Look at you, so handsome!” she spoke to him like she would speak to a horse. “Mom been taking good care of you? Good, oh I can’t get over how chubby you all are. Fat baby dragons, my day just keeps getting better.”

Miko began to take photos of the sparklings injury. She gets in trouble with Ratchet (again) for sneaking off with Jack and Arcee (again) but it would be worth it if it meant that this fat little baby would get the help and attention he needed.

Miko was so engrossed with the predacons, she almost missed the sound of massive wings. Almost.

The sparklings churred excitedly, lifting their helms away from her and Miko turned just in time to witness Predaqueen land with a thunderous boom not ten feet away from them. Her bulk blocked out the sun.  
Once again, Miko lifted her phone and took a photo out of nervous habit. Death by dragon. Best death ever.  
  
Predaqueen landed on the sandy bank of the pond where she had left her children, her fuel levels topped off as she gorged herself. She was gone longer then she wanted, but to avoid being fallowed, she had taken a longer route to return to her family.

She returned to her family, but there was a new addition that was not one of her children. This creature had no armor. No claws or teeth. It was soft, furry like the large-eared pests that her children would often chase after. She scanned it twice, and all readings told her this thing was an organic. Not a threat, even her children could kill this creature.  
Predaqueen lowered her helm so her gaze met with he hazel optics of the organic. It was so small, even smaller then her own brood. How could a creature be so small? Was its growth stunted? Did its own carrier leave it to the elements to die? What carrier would leave such a small youngling out of the nest?  
It smelled like a metallic, but it didn’t look like one.

Her children were calm, they weren’t alarmed with this creature and this creature couldn’t harm her children if it wanted to.  
It wasn’t a threat nor was it worth the energy to kill.

It stood frozen, lifting a square device and there was a Click! -Ca-ching sound that rang quietly in the air. Predaqueen blinked. How odd, it almost sounded like a youngling fresh out of the egg. Perhaps it was a sparkling?

Predaqueen greeted this youngling with a gentle tune, mandibles clicking together as her plating moved to relax against her protoform. Would it react like a youngling? It smiled wide, showing blunted white teeth that could never hope to crush energon, but it reacted just like her brood would. Maybe it was a youngling.  
“Hi.” It spoke, its tone suggested that this youngling was a female. “I’m Miko. It’s nice to meet you.”

Predaqueen crooned again. This little female had earned a name? Her own brood remained beside the new creature, rubbing their helms against her jaw. Her injured child wobbled as he walked to join his brothers, it was pleasing to see him moving about but she didn’t like how his leg dragged on the ground.

“Well, I guess you’re going to feed your kids now.” Miko patted her muzzle, no armor at all on her little servo, “I might visit tomorrow if that’s alright… can I?”  
Predaqueen crooned again, shifting to lay on her side. She picked up her youngest by the scruff-bar to place him in position to feed. Miko made the same Click! -Ca-ching sounds again. “Alright. I’ll try to visit soon. You guys stay safe!”

And with that, the pink creature left through the thick foliage. Predaqueen made herself comfortable as all three sparklings began to knead her stomach.  
  
  
Ratchet was throwing a fit when they had returned to the base. Miko hummed to herself as she uploaded the photos taken from the pond to the main monitor with Raf’s assistance. “That was beyond dangerous! What is wrong with you Miko!? You could have gotten yourself killed! Even a Predacon sparkling could have seriously maimed you!”  
“I am inclined to agree with Ratchet. Miko, it was irresponsible to endanger yourself. Arcee, the same goes to you.”

“Optimus,” Jack spoke up, “I understand what we did was wrong, but I think we did the right thing. If Predaqueen caught wind of Arcee, she wouldn’t care if she was an Autobot or a Decepticon. All she’ll see if a threat. Factions don’t matter to her.”

“He’s right you know.” Wheeljack agreed, “Prime, think about it. Predaqueen has never encountered a human before. Not up close. The only time she’s come across a ‘bot is when they’re shooting at her or her kids. She won’t talk next time you meet up, scrap, she might think you set the whole thing up to distract her from the nest when it was attacked.”  
Optimus couldn’t argue against the logic, nor could he find fault in Predaqueen if she had the same thought process.

The photo loaded within moments and began to pile on the screen. Close up images of the Predacon sparklings, the injured sparkling, its wounds, and finally Predaqueen’s helm.  
Miko had even gotten a short three-minute video of the sparklings injury. Ratchet full screened this one first and began to take notes on a spare data-pad.  
“We’ll deal with Miko in a moment… Wheeljack, over here, look. The wound is- “

“Cauterized. Predaqueen must not of had a choice to stunt the bleeding.”

“A wound like that needs serious surgery. Self-repair wouldn’t have a chance. The limb isn’t going to get enough energon flow and its only a matter of time before it dies all together. He won’t survive like that on his own.”

Miko frowned, “He’s got his carrier to help him. Right?”

Ratchet glanced over at Wheeljack, but the swords-mech shook his head. The medic sighed.

“Miko, you need to understand that predacons aren’t like us. If one of our comrades were injured, we do everything we can to repair them. However, Predaqueen is a Predacon. They’re wild, they live hard and die young. If her injured sparkling puts the other two in danger, she won’t have a choice but to abandon him.”

“It’s natural selection.” Wheeljack stated grimly, “It’s nothing personal, but she has to keep in mind her other two kids. She knows it to.”  
“So, we’ll help him! Right?!”

“Of course, but first we need to get the sparkling away from his carrier. I doubt Predaqueen would just… hand him over. Not without a fight. And she’ll fight to the death if she has to.” Ratchet shuddered, they would have to set up visual feed on the new nesting site, “Wheeljack, can you make trackers for the younglings? They have to be small, very small.”  
“I’m already making plans for them. Should have them ready in a few days.”  
“Good.”

  
  
Predaking landed on the ledge where her scent was the strongest, his spark was elated to have finally found the location of the nest, but after observing for three hours, no sound or signs that Predaqueen was returning prompted him to investigate further.  
His plating tightened at the condition of the nest.

The walls were melted, parts of the nest were destroyed from small peds of mechs, the prints of little paws in the still sand suggested they had tried to run away from something.  
At the back rim, his servo hovered over the dead energon that was to light to be from a fully matured mech. There were the tiniest shards of armor, dark blue in color, but to easily bent to be armor from an Autobot or a Decepticon. The makeup of the material from his scans suggested it belonged to a different being.

“…no…”

The shards were the remains of armor from a youngling. The spilled energon, far too much of it, were from a youngling. He could see where the plasma blast had cut through the nest.

His queens’ nest had been attacked. He looked further still. The youngling had been shot, and the imprint in the ground, he fell on his injured side staining the sand and his brothers hovered around him. Larger prints on either side of them, their carrier, used her bulk to shield them in the tight space. On the wall, he could see where her tail had made rough contact that made a deep wound in the wall.

There were black marks where mechs once stood, but where were they now? Some peds were still melted to the sand, but where were the rest of the bodies?  
Returning to the edge of the nest, he found the bodies. Several seeker-drones lay broken on the ground. Their frames charred black and limbs twisted in their last moments of agony as they were burned alive. Autobots didn’t have seeker-drones.

He took to the air, a request for a bridge answered with a swirling green portal that he passed through and landed on the air-strip of the Nemesis. He growled roughly as he landed with a sound of thunder and transformed. He nearly ran to the command center where his Lord Megatron awaited him, no doubt having been warned of his imminent arrival.

“Lord Megatron! The nest was attacked!” Predaking huffed, “Her nest was attacked! Drones! Drones attacked her nest! Her nest! Her young were damaged!”  
“I am aware of the current situation Predaking.”  
Predaking seethed, gritting his denta, “Drones attacked the nest. I should tear them all apart and present them to my queen.”  
“Those soldiers perished defending the nest.”

Predaking stalled. His wing-structs clicking in his ire. “What? Explain.”  
“We had found the location of the nest to late. I did not have time to contact you, Autobots had invaded her nest while she was hunting for fuel. You have my deepest apologies that I did not find them sooner.”

“Do you know what happened?! Did the youngling survive?!”  
Megatron turned to face the Predacon, Soundwave opened a video recording, Predaking could see it was from a drone’s perspective from the nest. A fire-fight. The younglings wailing in fear as the drones stood between them and the Autobots that were attacking the drones to get to the younglings in the back of the nest. The drones were fighting the Autobots, defending the nest.

“They fought back, the Decepticons I sent to defend the nest were meant to hold their position until either myself or you could aid them. But the Autobots did not hold back this time. We don’t have a full recording of what happened, but I suspect a shot from the Autobots hit their mark.”  
The drone twisted his helm to the sound of high pitched wailing, a dark blue youngling screaming as he writhed in the sand of the nest trying in vain to get his feet underneath of him. But his hip was too damaged to support his weight. His brothers kept close, trying to push their brother to stand. His plating fluttered in anxiety at the sound of them screaming. The youngling was bleeding heavily.

The video kept going. The drone returned firing on the Autobots, defending the nest, Predaqueen finally returning. She moved past them to place herself over her young and the last sight of the drone was that of a wall of fire before cutting out.

Predaking let his arms go limp at his side. “…he won’t survive that wound…”  
“Which is why you must find them. Reports from Soundwave inform us that she flew east, but Lazerbeak lost sight of her. I believe the Autobots are hunting her as we speak. Find Predaqueen and convince her to come to the Nemesis.”

Predaking nodded, “I will leave immediately. I will bring her home, Lord Megatron.”

Megatron nodded, letting the grin stretch over his face as Predaking turned his back to make a quick exit. Starscream allowed a chuckle to escape, “I’m impressed my Lord, how easy you can manipulate that beast.”

“It is easy when a beast is distracted by base instinct.”  


Knockout prided himself on many things. His knowledge of cleansers and waxes. His beautiful armor and choice of color. His abilities to repair a mech and how to break them again without splattered energon no his armor. He believed in the Decepticon cause, the true cause. The right for all mechs to do as they wanted with their frames and their lives. The right to choose. The right to education and the right to have the opportunity to a better life that would pave the way to prosperity for future generations.  
However, he did not believe in whatever it was that his Lord Megatron was doing now. Predaking had stopped in, asking for a welding tool that Knockout could part with. When the medic inquired as to why Predaking would need one, the Predacon had told him of what had happened at the females nesting site.  
Knockout might not have liked children, they were messy and noisy and got into all sorts of things they shouldn’t, he did not enjoy the look of fear on Predaking’s face when he said a youngling, a sparkling had been wounded.

Predaking was jittery, his wing-structs clicking and his armor rattling in his newfound desperation to find the female again if only to aid her young that were not his own. When had the Decepticons stooped to low to attack sparklings?

Predaking left without a goodbye, rude but understandable.  
  
  
Predaqueen watched over her young as they played together. Her youngest was struggling to keep up, but he was trying his best despite his leg. He was using his leg, but the injury left it with limited mobility. He could drag it forward with a swing of his hip, but he couldn’t move his toes or his knee, she began to fear for his future. He was huffing and puffing from exertion, trying to chase his brothers before he stopped.

He turned around, still panting, and made the short journey to rest in the bowl of her arms. She moved to allow him to press his small frame in the crook of her arm, his helm resting of the knuckles of her paw as he rested. He was fueling, he was moving around, but that injury would be the death of him if he could not run from danger.  
She kept it as clean as she could. Using her mandibles to pick out sand and dirt, and even allowing him to rest his hind-quarters in the shallow pond to allow the cool water to sooth the wound.

He cannot clutch onto her plating, he needs all his limbs to hold himself against her when she flies with them and it had been a frightening experience to catch him in mid-air when he lost his grip and fell a short distance to the earth.  
She had made a new nest.

There was a steep hill that she had spent a full day digging and making a burrow. She hauled rocks and boulders to hide the entrance and make her burrow look more natural with the landscape. Even moving trees to hide the burrow in the shade.

She had also made several false burrows, and smaller, more cramped spaces where her young could hide. Just large enough for them to crawl into. In the back of her burrow, she made a second tunnel, one that would allow her young to escape intruders if they were cornered.

Predaqueen worries for her child’s future. How can he survive if he can barely walk?  
  
“So, what are we going to do?” Smokescreen asked aloud, Ratchet was once again studying the photos Miko had gotten of the younglings. Fat little dragon sparklings filled one of the screens as the old medic took notes. “Should we… just take him? Give him back to Predaqueen when he’s fixed up?”  
“The injury is going to take more than one surgery Smokescreen.” Ratchet stated, “He might not even be strong enough to survive a surgical procedure…”  
Smokescreen didn’t want to find a dead sparkling, even if it was a Predacon.

“We will figure something out,” Optimus chimed in, placing a hand on Smokescreens shoulder armor, “Wheeljack is altering the trackers as we speak, we will be able to monitor their health and, if the time comes, we will intervene for the sake of the sparkling.”

“For now,” Optimus continued, “We must prepare the energon Bulkhead is gathering with the other two.” He means Bumblebee and Arcee, the three-mech-team had left for the energon deposit Predaqueen would often visit to claim some energon for themselves. Their reserves were running dangerously low. “He has reported that the energon is plentiful and we should have more then enough to sustain us all for a time. Predaqueen has not returned to that site since the attack.”

“How much did they find?”  
“Enough for me to prepare my trailer.” Optimus smiled gently.

  
Predaking soared over the desert, still, there was no sight of Predaqueen, her brood, or the new location of the nest. He had been fallowing the smallest signs, she must have been flying low to the ground this time. The canyon walls had deep lines where her wings must have made contact. The scent was old, but it was the scent of Predaqueen had kept him going.

However, as the scent would get stronger, where she had been making returning trips, his processors began to prepare himself for a rough encounter. Her nest had been attacked, it would be some time before she would be accepting of visitors, namely, himself.

In his paws, he carries a decently sized portion of energon, freshly dug out from the deep pits of the most recently found energon mine and rightly fought for to acquire it. He hopes this peace offering would be enough to sway her.

Though he doubts it, he’s prepared to leave with damage. He flies.  
The land gives way from dirt and sand to green forest. Her scent surrounds the tops of the trees, some of them damaged and, there, a spot where the tree line had been broken in a curved path with wide wings. Now, his spark delights, he has a general idea where her new nest was located. He lands on a high hill that overlooks most of the woods. The trees go on for miles, and it would take to long to search, not with what’s at stake.

Energon planted between his front paws, he takes a deep breath, and with a roar that rattles his throat, he calls out to her. The sound carries over the land and it wasn’t until the fourth call did he receive one in return.  
But it was not a call of peace.  
  
Her helm whips at the sound of the male. Predaqueen barks at her children, and immediately, they abandon their playing and shuffle past her and into the darker corners of the nest. Her youngest fallows them as fast as he could, tail and wings flailing to aid him. She doesn’t look away until they were safely out of sight.  
She prepares herself, her armor puffs out, her ignition chamber expands and begins to rapidly heat up at the very thought of the male showing up. The words of the clan leader echo in her mind, this ‘Predaking’ was loyal to the clan leader that attacked her nest. And he has the nerve to approach her with peace? With a single beat of her wings, launching herself into the air, she answers his call, one that promises war and fire.

Climbing in the air, she finds him on a hill in the distance, and she angles her frame to make a bee-line for him. How dare this male place her nest in danger! A second time! How dare he!  
Predaking takes to the air the moment she turns towards him, but he doesn’t have the time to evade when several thousand tons of Predaqueen takes him out of the air and slams him onto the earth. She’s relentless.  
  
Predaking snarls and roars in protest, but she hears none of it. There would be no warning this time. No forgiveness. She dives her helm through the waving sharp claws of the male, her mandibles piercing his hide again and again until he uses his tail and back limbs to shove her off him.

She slides in the dirt, her teeth spread as she growls low in her chassis. Her helm raised high over his, a show of dominance. Predaking gets his bearings, getting his limbs under him and quickly steps back to put distance between them. His optics are wide, he’s panting, he doesn’t understand why the female had just savaged him.

Protocols whir to life, ones trying to save his life because this female has just decided that she was going to kill him. His wings are low, half-open if he needs to make a quick escape and he will. His belly nearly touches the crushed grass and his helm angles to bare his throat to her. He croons a low soothing lyrical note.

The female stomps the ground, she doesn’t appear to have received the message of submission. So, he tries again and again, quickly backing off when she makes a mock charge at him. His spark is swirling in panic, he needs to try something else before she tears him apart. They circle each other again and again, and finally, after moments of agonizing terror, his tail is within reach of the gift he had brought to her. A quick jerk and the spines of his tail catch on, tossing the energon between them.  
But Predaqueen is still growling. Her wings are wide open, and she remains enraged. Why is she so angry with him? Was his gift not appealing? Perhaps he should have brought a larger root of energon, maybe more raw material, thoughts race across his mind as her neck begins to glow with the signs of another attack.

Predaking submitted! He did it right! He submitted but still she doesn’t acknowledge his surrender! He has to do something; the air is rapidly heating up.  
All the warnings tell him not to, all his instinct is screaming against him, they shout ‘fly and fly far’ but he ignores them in his desperation.  
He transforms. His plating folds in on itself, mass is displaced, and he’s looked up with wide golden optics and she’s so much bigger than him. “Stop!” he shouts, taking another step back. “Stop…”

She’s not pleased, but her throat is no longer glowing. Predaking inhales deeply, still trying to catch his breath, he doesn’t take his optics off the female. “Please… I come in peace… I bring an offering of peace…”

Predaqueen snarls, lifting her upper-frame from the ground to stand on her back legs. Her helm is thrown backwards, and her wings fold close. Her plating opens like a flower, folding, folding, and now Predaking is speechless.

The female stands before him, standing on two long peds that lead up to wide hips. She’s just as tall as he is, her bulk not entirely gone, her frame still powerful. Unlike the female Autobot, Predaking would not dare describe Predaqueen as slim or dainty, that would warrant punishment. She lacks the wide shoulder array that he has, her neck is slimmer than his, but he’s still in danger.

Her pink optics are locked in on him, she bares her sharp denta and snarls. “You dare!” she shouts, “You dare find my nest a second time! You! You put my nest and my young in danger! You are a danger to my young!”

She believed him to be a danger to her nest? Impossible! “I did not find your nest!” he protested, “I was charged by Lord Megatron to protect you!”  
Predaqueen hisses, taking a step closer to him, for once, he stands his ground. “Your clan attacked my nest! Your clan harmed by youngest! Spilled the energon of my brood!”  
“They were defending your nest from the Autobots!”

“Your clan attacked my young! Your clan invaded my nest! Do not tell me lies! I was there! I defended my nest!” Predaqueen his huffing, ready for a fight. “One of your clan shot my young! I tore him apart! I saw him! How dare you speak blatant lies to me!”

“I do not lie to you!” Predaking and Predaqueen are circling each other now, sidestepping to keep their optics locked on the other, the energon he had brought in the center of them. “I am not lying!”

“Then you are being lied to!” Predaqueen spat, her wing-struts clicking, and her armor puffs out as her claws flex, “Your clan has attacked me before! Attacked me with my young to close. I tore him from the sky, he was colored black and silver, ripped apart his wings and ate him alive. Your clan brings danger, you bring danger to my nest.”  
She had been attacked? Autobots don’t have wings. His mind races to find a logical answer, but he comes up empty. “The other clan leader did the same thing you are doing, bringing me a gift of peace, your clan took the opportunity to raid my nest, to kill my children, and Optimus was the one to tell me of the attack. Tell me, why would he do that?”  
“A trick!” he barks instantly, “A trick to convince you to join their barbarian clan!”

The circle grows tight. He could smell her now. A part of him is delighted, he wants to strut and impress her, but another part is terrified, he wants to turn tail and run. “And what did your master tell you? If you did not find my nest, then how did your master find it? If he found my nest, and he did charge you with protecting my nest, why did he not tell you of its location? Why send creatures to kill my brood?”

They stop moving. Her optics are harsh, watching him intently. Predaking tries to answer her, he wants to tell her that he had seen visuals of what had happened, but then a new, more terrifying thought crosses his mind.

Predaking did not see the whole battle, only the smallest portion. He did not see how many drones behind them, he did not ask why the Autobots were at the front of the nest and not in the back. Suggesting that the drones had gotten there first, not last. The sun was beginning to set behind him, and Predaqueen straightens her stance.  
“Your clan attacked my nest.” She stated as a fact. “You bring me a gift of peace, but your clans actions bring me the promise of death. Why are you here? Did your master send you?”

“He sent me to convince you to…”  
“To join your clan.” She finished for him harshly, “To join a clan he ordered to harm my children and myself. We both know that isn’t going to happen.”

He feels his processors stall; all the evidence was brought to light and he doesn’t like what it pointed to. Predaking had been tricked, played for a fool.  
“And now that you’re here, your clan must know where my nest is. I must find a new nest.” She was frighteningly calm now, all the anger and rage bleed out, her plating relaxed. “Leave Predaking, before I change my mind and take your head from your shoulders.”  
She toes the offering back to him. She doesn’t want it. No no no no. He drops down and pushes it back to her. “No. I must make amends!”  
“Make amends?” she repeats, “Why should I?”

“I’ve searched for so long, since the destruction of the mountain where you were created! I’ve finally found you! I cannot-“ He breaths deep, “I cannot allow my honor to be tarnished. Punish me if you must, but I must make amends.”  
Predaqueen growls low, his chassis vibrating from the force of her ire. The talons on her ped click on the energon gift that he’s still firmly pushing back to her. He’s in dangerous territory.

“Make amends… you want to make amends…” There’s a snarl behind her voice, Predaking remains in his crouched position, any movement could be seen as hostile an she would surely take his life. “Keep your clan clear of my nest.”  
Her servo, talons grip harshly as they coil around his neck and dig deep between cables and armor. With little effort, she forces him to stand, keeping his face-plates close enough that he could feel the heat of her breath.

“Stay. Away. I will have nothing to do with a beast at his master’s feet.”  
It’s an odd feeling, being thrown. Flight comes naturally for predacons, they’re evolved to spend most of their time in the air, traveling vast distances without wasting energon. It’s in their nature. However, being thrown offers little comfort, Predaking bounces when he hits the earth from the force she threw him with. Scrambling to transform, just as her massive frame had spread her own wings and her ignition chamber expanded as a final warning. The fire she breaths is hot, just barely grazing his underbelly when he finally leaps to escape her wrath.  
  
  
Predaqueen had not stayed in the new nest, during the earliest hours of the morning Ultra Magnus had been appointed monitor duty. Watching out for any signs of Decepticon activity or possible energon locations. Bulkhead and Wheeljack had mined what they could that Predaqueen had exposed, but without the aid of specialized equipment, any energon still buried would remain as so.

The monitor had begun to flash, Predaqueen was on the move. She had done so many times before, hunting for raw materials and energon. However, this time, she did not take the route to either hot-spots. She flew far past them.

She did not fly in a straight line. She weaved in random patters over the flat landscape of the desert. She would likely have her children, she has never flown so far away before.  
“Predaqueen is moving.” Ultra Magnus stated, glancing beside him as Optimus Prime. “Heading west right now. Far west. She must be looking for a new nest location.”  
“So soon?” Optimus stepped up, watching the moving blip, “Miko reported that Predaqueen had already made a nest… what would make her find a new one so soon?”  
“There was no Decepticon activity detected. It is possible that she had made a temporary nest.”

Optimus was silent for a moment. “She would have likely built a nest for the injured sparkling. I was glad to hear that he survived.”  
For a moment, Ultra Magnus turns back to the monitor, the blip was still moving and has been for the last hour. Optimus was watching, and the blue mech glanced around the room before turning his attention to his superior. “Optimus… ever since we discovered a second Predacon, you have been rather invested in them. I’ve seen you study what little information we have in the Predacon species. What is it about this Predacon that has captured your attention so adamantly?”

Optimus didn’t hesitate. “Predaqueen gave birth to the first set of sparklings since our war began. Life that was forged from her spark and her frame. For creatures so powerful, they start out so small and fragile. They are innocent in this war, and in a perfect world, I would ensure that they would not be involved.”

The Autobot continued. “The emergence of Predaqueen gives me hope for he future of our race. A species native to Cybertron returned, she gave birth, created new life and thrives so far from home. It gives me hope for our future.”  
  
  
Predaqueen is huffing when she finally lands, the sun is cresting in the sky and she had been searching for a new nest location as far from the old nest as far as she can. However, this land offers to much energon to simply let it go. She has to carry her youngest in her jaws, he cannot grip the plating on her back like his brothers can. She isn’t going to build a nest in this place, there’s no enough coverage to protect her young if she goes out to find fuel. The predacon moves forward towards a large boulder and sets her child  
Setting her child on the ground, his brothers fallow quickly to stand on either side of him. She gets to work. Shoving her talons into the rock, she begins to scoop out the soil, creating a narrow tunnel just large enough for her young to hide. Her reserves are too low, she can’t filter energon to offer her children and she has no choice but to leave them if they are to survive. Without a proper nest, she has to make due with what she can for now.

She scatters the dirt away, her ignition chamber expands and she fires into the newly made tunnel, melting the walls into a smooth texture. It’s as deep as she can make it.  
The female then swings her helm to her sparklings that remain side by side, watching her work. Using her muzzle, she gently pushes them towards the hole. They catch on instantly. They chirp and whistle, falling in line to enter the tunnel. Her youngest goes in first, dragging his leg and lays down at the very back of the channel. Predaqueen has to bark and physically push the other two to fallow him, they cannot come with her this time.

Predaqueen sighs, watching them as they all huddle together and fall silent. She’s nervous, she doesn’t want to leave them, she has no idea how long she’ll be gone for this time, but she has to. She needs energon, she needs minerals, she cannot hesitate right now. Every moment counts.

She takes to the air, massive wings beating as her sensors come to life and almost instantly find a small pocket of energon, it’s not much but it’s a start.  
  
Aboard the Nemesis, Megatron is studying the screen intently. The marker shows that Predaqueen had stopped for a short time and then began flying northeast. The silver warlord flexes his hands and tilts his helm down. Starscream is watching the screen as well.  
“Why did she turn course?”  
“She can’t hunt with a wounded youngling. Starscream, prepare a squadron of seekers, we leave immediately.”

“What are we preparing for?”  
“If Predaking cannot convince this Predaqueen to come to me willingly, then we will collect incentive for her loyalty.”  
Starscream almost felt like rolling his optics, “Very well, my Lord. I will prepare them immediately.”

“Good. We leave in two minutes. Soundwave, alert me when Predaqueen is returning to its little ‘pit stop’.”  
  
Predaqueen feels the air shift drastically, enough so that it makes her plating rise and she lands on a high pillar, twisting her helm to try and figure out just what was wrong. She can see the boulder where her children are hiding, its but a little speck now, but something is wrong, and she can’t ignore it.  
Her spark nearly halts when a green vortex appears. For the first time, she screams in fear when a swarm of silver creatures spill from the swirling portal.  
  
“Optimus!” Ratchet shout rings through the base, “Optimus! Decepticon activity! Predaqueen is moving to intercept!”

Ratchet types in commands into the monitor, a satellite feed pops up. Seekers and ground troops are running through the Decepticon ground bridge. “Optimus!”  
The Autobot leader watches the screen for a moment, “Autobots! Prepare for battle!”

Bumblebee activates his blaster, already waiting at the ground bridge. Raf is watching as the Autobots hustle around them. “What’s going on? A raid?”  
“No.” Ratchet begins to enter the coordinates, “Megatron is making his move. If Predaqueen is moving towards him, he must be to close to whatever nest she decided to make.”  


Predaqueen beats her wings as hard as she can, her optics are locked onto the boulder where she had hidden her children away and there are just so many of those silver winged beasts hovering around them. Her children are in danger, she has to get to them. She has to get to them. It’s the only thing on her mind.  
She doesn’t bother counting, only hastening her pace when beings without wings emerge from the portal.  
There is no mercy given when she blasts the ground in a rain of fire. Using her bulk, she slams into the ground and crushes several of the beasts with her paws. Raising her helm, she roars in warning as she swings her tail to take out several more.

They shout, ‘take it down’ and ‘get to the nest’ and return fire. Alone, their blasts wouldn’t have done much, but there are so many.

Again, and again she fires on them, its becomes a blur of violence and spilled energon. The fallen frames litter the ground when they finally back away and for a wide ring. Predaqueen snarls, snapping her jaws at them, planting herself between them and her children. There are many of the creatures circling the sky, she can’t just escape through the air with her children on her back. They would be exposed and vulnerable.

Then a new figure emerges from the vortex. One that stood taller than the rest of the drones. Silver armor that spoke of victories from many harsh battles, and crimson optics that burned bright. He must be the leader, as the smaller creatures make way for him.  
Predaqueen holds her ground. Opening her wings in a threatening display, stomping her limbs and roars in defiance.  
He seemed amused. “… Greetings, Predaqueen.”

She growls harder and rattles her plating loudly. “I have heard many things of you. A Predacon more powerful than Predaking. I am pleased to see that his tales of your might were more than just stories.”

Another creature slithers from behind him, a lanky, almost sickly-looking creature with wings. She holds her ground.  
“You were created to serve me. Proclaim your loyalty to me, and your spawn will be allowed to live.”  
She roars, and her ignition chamber expand. The challenge was accepted.

Megatron huffs, “Very well. Watch Starscream, this is how you put a beast in their place.”

Predaqueen lunges, putting all her weight behind her talons and Megatron dodges to the right. He uses the momentum and drives his fist into the underside of her helm. It hurts, but the pain reminds her of what’s at stake. Twisting her neck and her helm, her mandibles catch his arm and she violently throws him a distance away. Following him, fire spews from her mouth, but this mech, despite his size, is quick to evade.

Megatron huffs, running towards the massive Predacon, and she drives her frame forward to meet him halfway. Her jaws were wide, intend on biting down on his frame, anyway, to tear it apart and scatter the remains. Maybe even to decorate a new nest. However, the mech proved himself quick and nimble.

Her jaws bite down on nothing, and he grips one of her horns and yanks to lift himself onto her back. Predaqueen screams in indignation, he was on her back! She throws her frame to and fro, her helm whipping from side to side in her attempt to dislodge him.

“Submit!” he roars over the rushing of the wind, and still Predaqueen is fighting. Her frame bucks, and her wings spread and begin to beat. Megatron holds fast, using one servo to anchor himself and his other hand is clenched into a fist as he begins to rapidly punch her helm behind her optic. Sparks fly from each impact and Predaqueen screams.  
She leaps into the air. The force of her wings kicks up the dirt and several mechs around them are blown off their feet and they watch as she ascends into the open sky. “Is that all you have!?” Megatron is still hitting her, the armor on her helm is starting to dent and threatening to crack under the pressure. “Submit!”

Predaqueen tries everything to get him off her. Taking sharp twists in the air, flying through fire that should have melted him alive, diving deep in hopes that he would let go in fear of the earth rushing to meet them. So Predaqueen tries again, this time, flying hard and fast until they break through the clouds, and then back down to the earth.  
Predaqueen spirals. Taking a nosedive and pressing her wings close to her, she hopes that he would finally lose his grip on her. His grip remains true.

“Submit!” he roars, and something is shoved where her helm meets her neck. Predaqueen doesn’t have time to shriek when Megatron fires the cannon again and again. Her frame undulates, trying to twist away from the source of the pain. She meets the ground, the impact cracking her armor and Megatron fires one more time.  
She feels something give. Her armor fails her, she’s so low in energy and now she’s losing more as it dribbles from the wound.

Her vision is swimming, she’s gasping and Megatron is still sitting on her neck. “Submit!”

He shouts, diving a fist below her optic again, “Submit!”

When he stops, her frame forces a transformation sequence. She can’t afford the energy to power her frame, and so it transforms to a smaller form. She’s on her belly, breathing deep as her wide optics cannot look away from the boulder being swarmed by monsters. One of them is reaching inside.

Then there’s shouting in the sea of noise. More cannons being fired. She jolts when she hears the wailing of her children. “Autobots!” one of the drone’s bellow, turning their rifles towards a new cluster of mechs joining the fray. She can vaguely recognize Optimus Prime, but she doesn’t know the others that fallow him. “Cut them down!”  
Predaqueen is screeching, trying to get back to her feet, as unsteady as she is, the sound of her terrified sparklings drive her to move. The instinct to protect her nest overrides everything, but Megatron only fires his cannon into her back again and again.

“Secure the runts! Go!”  
Predaqueen watches, as if time had slowed down. The brightly colored mechs are quickly making a path towards the boulder, a drone had been trying to roughly pull out one of her children, is beaten by a tall mech with blue armor holding a golden hammer. Predaqueen screams, trying to get up but Megatron stomps down and fires again and this time one of her wing-struts is hit.

“Protect the younglings!” Optimus orders, his team following without question.  
Predaqueen cannot get up, she’s to weak. There are no reserves after flying for so long. She’s panicking, she cannot allow Megatron to have her children. She can do only one thing, and it frightens her to her core.

She inhales and releases a high-pitched bellow. It rattles her throat, but the sound is caught by her brood. Her children fallow her direction. They leap from the safety of the boulder and latch onto the first mech they see. The blue Autobot with the hammer.

Again, Predaqueen makes the same sound, desperate, Megatron kicks her chassis but she doesn’t let up. Two of her younglings secure themselves onto his back, pressing close and still they cry for their carrier. Her youngest moves as fast as he can with his injury and is swiftly scooped up by the mech.  
“Ultra Magnus! Get them out of here! Arcee! Cover them!”

With the sparklings in tow, the blue mech makes a bee-line for the second vortex. A smaller Autobot, a female, fallows him. Shooting at any mech that gets close.  
“Autobots! Fall back! Fall back!”

More silver drones spill from the first vortex. They’re outnumbered, and within moments, all of the Autobots are gone and the vortex vanishes in a flash.  
Predaqueen falls limp. Her wounds over-power her now. She doesn’t hear what Megatron said, but she feels him grip her frame and drag her through the dirt. Her optics fail just before he steps through the portal.  
Her children are safe from this beast. That was all that mattered.  
She vows she would meet them again before falling unconscious.  
  
The younglings were wailing when they passed through the ground bridge on the back of Ultra Magnus and the smallest in his servos. “What happened?! Where’s Predaqueen?”  
Ultra Magnus hurriedly sets down the youngling on the floor, “Captured.”

Before Ratchet would make more inquiries, the remaining Autobots jump through the bridge, Optimus was the last before he shut down the portal.  
“Optimus! What happened?!”

Optimus glances over at Ultra Magnus, Arcee was trying to dislodge the two younglings from his back, but they flap their wings, press themselves closer and screech. The injured sparkling keeps himself between the mechs peds, trying to latch onto his armor. “Arcee, leave them be. Let them calm down.”  
The Prime turns back to Ratchet, “Decepticons were attempting to capture the younglings, Predaqueen could not defend them as she was out numbered. We did the only thing we could do to keep them safe.”

Ratchet sighs, “Very well. Ultra Magnus, take them to the med-bay, there’s a private room set up. I’ll come look at them once they’ve settled down.”  
Ultra Magnus said nothing, once again picking up the injured youngling that almost leaps at the offered servo and scrambles to find a grip. The mech had to use two hands to keep him from climbing up his arm as he walks from the command center towards his new destination.

The sound of terrified younglings bounces through the hallway, calling for a carrier that would not be coming for them.


	8. Responsibilities

It had taken several hours for the younglings to finally settle down, and an hour more before they released their death grip on Ultra Magnus's armor. The injured sparkling stayed in his cupped servos, his small frame shivered minutely, but Magnus had noted that he would curl tighter and try to press himself further into his curled fingers. Ratchet had began working on constructing a temporary 'nest' for the younglings. In the corner of the medical bay, Ratchet had made an enclosed area with a wide bowl lined with mesh insulation, and a heating pad underneath.

“I'm almost done here, hopefully the filtration system I rigged up will work. It's been a long time since I've needed to make sparkling fuel.” Ratchet was welding a latch into the pen, from outside a mech could open and close the pen to allow the sparklings to come and go as they pleased or to keep them in one location during recharge. He glanced over his shoulder to where Ultra Magnus was sitting stiffly, two of the predacons crawling over his shoulders, nosing and sniffing at every little piece of armor they could reach. “How is he?”

'He' being the injured youngling, Ultra Magnus adjusted his hold, the youngling wasn't bothered beyond a small bit of warbling and his leg dangled over the edge of his hand. He was awake, he was alert, “Calm. I am unsure if he even feels the damage.”

“The wound was cauterized, the sensors there might have been severed from the heat so its not unlikely.”

Another few minutes pass, and finally, Ratchet sets the welding tool back in its appropriate case and locked it. He stood from his crouched position. “Bring them over here, keep them calm while I go check their fuel.”

Ultra Magnus said nothing, standing up with his passengers in tow and Ratchet passing him to enter the next room. He places the youngest in the bed of mesh, careful with his leg and then reaches over to the others. Hooking his fingers under their bellies, they didn't struggle against being lifted or being set down on the other side of the pen.  
However, they began to shout and holler at him when he took a step back from them. Two younglings tried to climb the short barrier but could not find anything for their blunted talons to grip and so they fluttered wings that were to small and slapped their paws on the sides of the pen. Standing on their hind-legs, they could just barely look over the edge, but their front-limbs were to short to reach and pull themselves up. Unable to fly or jump, they did the only other thing they could do.  
Make a lot of noise.

Ratchet had returned, holding three cubes filled with filtered energon that was nearly transparent. “What's happening?” He barked, “Did you toss them in there or something?”  
“I did not 'toss' them in.” Ultra Magnus stated firmly, “I set them down and they started screeching.” The Magnus leaned over the gate of the pen, and reached inside to offer a hand, almost immediately, the three calmed down to a small bit of chatter. All three pressed their helms against his hand and even tried to use their small mouths to tug him into the pen with them.

“Perhaps they're not yet ready to separate themselves from you.” Ratchet wasn't amused, the sparklings had been witness to their carriers beating, and was separated from her. “We'll have to work around that until they're ready, their fuel is nearly ready, it needs to cool down first. For now, let's take a look at the youngest.”

Ultra Magnus stepped aside, allowing the medic to lean over the pen and plucks him from the pen. There was a chorus of more screeching from the other two, being separated from their brother. “Keep them calm Magnus,” Ratchet ordered, “I want to keep them as calm as possible.”

It was clear that Ultra Magnus didn't know what to do with hollering sparklings, and Ratchet was taking advantage of that. He sets the sparkling on the examination table, noting that the sparkling almost instantly laid down on his side to allow his leg to stretch out. It twitched, and he could flex his toes to some degree, so the limb isn't dead. Perhaps there was hope that Ratchet could repair it.

Ratchet installed himself on a stool. “Alright, let's see what's going on with you...”

First, Ratchet observed the sparklings helm. Like his carrier, he carried what would one day be a set of impressive horns, a set of larger horns that were just barely longer than the rest. They were blunted, and to his surprise, they were hollow. The inner chamber of the main set of horns were not filled with layered armor, instead, the scans revealed they were filled with clusters of specialized sensors. Ratchet would have to investigate what they were for at a later time.

His purple optics blinked, reacting to when Ratchet waved a light in front of each optic. The youngling opened his mouth, teething at his fingers. It was not malicious intent, but instead inquisitive. At a young age, their jaws could split, but why would a predator need this adaptation? This meant that this species had a relatively weak bite-force. It could do some damage, but it couldn't crush armor with its jaws alone.

“That's right, open your mouth... lets see those teeth of yours.”

The sparkling warbled, having his little set of jaws held open so Ratchet could see into the back of his mouth. Only the front portion of the jaws split, leaving a row of flat grinding teeth anchored securely in place. Ratchet theorized that the front mandibles would manipulate the angle of raw energon crystals, the front teeth would hold it while the predacon would chew the crystals with its back-grinding teeth. A primitive system, but it had been rather advanced during its time.

Ratchet felt along his neck, feeling for anything out of place and marveled at how thin his armor was. He could still feel the heat of his protoform underneath. The sparkling batted at his hands with his front paws, Ratchet gently caught one to examine it closely. Four digits including a thumb.

The youngling chirps when he is lifted so Ratchet could scan over his stomach.

Ratchet displayed the scan on the screen. His spark rested right behind what would likely to be an inactive ignition chamber, shielded from the heat with a barrier of heat resistant mesh. The filtration system was made of up a total of four pumps, but three were still developing. The tubes connecting three of the four pumps were, currently to thin to properly contain or filter raw energon.

He didn’t have a gestational chamber; reproductive functions were also in development. “You’re being so good for me,” Ratchet murmured in praise, “Alright, lets look at your back and wings.”

The youngling weaved his head from side to side, looking at his new surroundings as Ratchet gently encouraged him to lay on his belly. Ratchet began to inspect his back.  
The plating of his back was thin, but Ratchet could see the signs that his armor was slowly but surely growing in overlapping layers. He suspects that as their protoforms grew in size, their plating would expand, and the deepest layers would condense. At younglings, a first scan revealed hundreds of interlocking plates of armor, a modern mech didn’t have so many small pieces of armor. At the shoulder, the protoform was at its thickest, one day the proto-flesh would be thick and further supported by armor allowing their wings to support their frames. However, the math didn’t add up.

“You’d be to heavy to get off the ground, how would your wings support you?”

Their wings were to small to lift their frames, even as a youngling they couldn’t fly. Did their wings have a different rate of growth compared to their frames?  
Ratchet allowed the youngling to squirm as he thumbed his tail, there were no barbs growing at the tip as he let it hit his hands a few times. The youngling trills, a melody of high clicking notes when Ratchet finally moves onto the injured leg.

This species of Predacon limbs are notably short compared to the size and weight of their frame. These limbs were not evolved to travel long distance on land, they were meant for gripping and tearing through dense armor and rock. The talons are anchored directly on to the joint, the joints themselves appear to be slowly growing its first layer of armor.  
Ratchet touches the foot, the sparkling doesn’t seem to register the touch, so Ratchet gently applies pressure to the ankle. Nothing still. Moving up, closer to the warped metal at the knee, the sparkling turns his neck around to angle his helm to look at the medic. “You feel that?”

He applies slight pressure, and he can feel small jerks of movement. The sparkling barks, it’s not threatening or fearful, more hushed and curious as to why its leg had been touched. Ratchet repeats, the scanners in his fingers resonating to get an internal map of his leg. The sparkling croons at him.  
So he can feel his leg from the knee joint up, meaning there must be damage to sensor-relays at the knee. Ratchet moved his hands higher to the hip where the damage was at its worst. As gentle as he possibly could, Ratchet tested what range of movement the sparkling had.

The answer was not much. He could move it backwards towards the tail, but he couldn’t bring his knee towards his belly. The melted hip-joint would have to be replaced, and Ratchet would have to schedule a deep scan to inspect the protoform to ensure that it wasn’t rusting underneath his armor.

Predaqueen is held in a kneeling position with the thickest chains and multiple restraints, hours pass but she keeps trying to break the unbreakable. There is something on her back, between the struts of her wings that keep her from transforming. Her wings are bound tightly. Her arms are chained behind her back and held tight to the floor behind her. There is a choler around her neck, pulling her upper-frame forward on her knees.  
There are little air movement in this cell, a large round room with a single door, no other openings to the outside world that she can see in her position.  
She snarls, jerking with as much force as she can, trying to use her legs to break her chains again and again. They groan and protest, but they still hold strong. She would love to bite down on them, but she can’t reach them with her teeth.  
Predaqueen roars in her frustrations, she must escape! She must return to her children! They cannot survive without her! They’re defenseless, they’re not in a nest nor can they fuel on raw energon. They need her!

Megatron is watching the security monitor as the female Predacon continuously tries to break free. The chains were specifically made for her. The original plan was to capture her younglings, use them as bait to lure her into a trap designed to release a gas that would place her in stasis. A smaller set of cages would hold the younglings.  
However, the opportunity arose after Soundwave reported movement. Predaqueen flew for hours, she wasn’t hunting for energon, this time she had to have had her young with her to find a new nest after her short encounter with Predaking. She flew away, and so Megatron had ordered his troops in invade on the new, temporary nest before she could hide away again.

When his men reported the quick return of Predaqueen, Megatron decided he wanted to meet this new beast himself.

He was not disappointed. He would not deny that Predaqueen was powerful, her fire burns hot and her strength is unmatched. However, Megatron has experience, he knows how to use his opponents’ gifts and natural abilities against his foe and that is what saved him from being crushed or melted alive. He imagines how their fight could have been if Predaqueen was properly trained, how useful her power could be in the war.

The possibilities were endless, how many battles could she win on her own, how much energon she could locate on her own… endless possibilities.

Predaqueen bellows in rage, her limbs thrashing in her attempts to break her chains, to gain some kind of leverage as she shifts her weight to pull forward with the aid of her legs. The choler around her neck tugs, no doubt cutting off energon from her processors, but she tries again and again.  
Relentless.

“You have to admire their strength,” Megatron began, Soundwave standing silent beside him as they monitor the female in the cell. “She will make a magnificent soldier when she’s properly trained.”

Soundwave turned his helm towards Megatron, images flashing. Eons with the silent mech, Megatron had learned to read the images. Soundwave say the female as a feral animal, threatening, dangerous, and caution needed to be used. They don’t know much about Predacons, what information they do have come from long dead scientists, and that information was based on theories alone. Theories were unreliable.

How was Megatron going to train a feral animal?

“True, she is wild. But even a wild animal can be trained. It will be just like training new recruits. You must break them first, and then rebuild.”  
Soundwave flashed more images.  
“Ah, yes. Insurance. Begin its construction, install it once its completed. How long will it take?”  
The next image flashed, less than an hour.

The doorway of the cell hummed for a moment, and Predaqueen paused her thrashing. Her talons flex, her plating rattles in her ire as she prepares herself for another duel. Even chained as she was, she would not submit so easily. Not with her goal to return to her nest in mind.

The door finally gave a loud chirp and slide open to reveal the silver mech from the battlefield.

He smelled cold, almost acidic with whatever it was that made his armor shine, Predaqueen bared her teeth in warning, hissing as her optics locked onto the male as it strutted into the chamber without hesitation or acknowledgment of her open challenge.

The silver mech stopped just outside of her reach, they were almost equal in height, but she was taller. He studied her for a moment, not once did his optics cast downwards in submission and she refused to look away. She wanted to tear him apart, leave his corpse at the foot of her nest as a warning to others, she wouldn’t even feed from him.  
“Do you know how to speak? Or are you going to keep growling like a beast?”

Predaqueen snarls, “Disgusting creature,” she seethes, “When I am free, I will burn your clan alive, and put your soul to the grindstone…”

He huffs in amusement, “Ah, there it is. Such fire you have. I am a mech that can appreciate other beings will to survive. And you have done remarkably well, not just fueling yourself but your spawn as well. I was not aware that Predacons can find energon on their own, Predaking cannot, but I am curious to know how you can.”

Predaqueen jerks forward, wanting nothing more than to crush his helm in her jaws. Her plating rattles, but the chains do not give.

“Well then, Predaqueen,” her optics spot something in his hand, a long silver rod with two short prongs, “I am willing to give you a chance to join me willingly. I have bested you in battle, took you out of the sky, proclaim loyalty to me, and I will ensure that your spawn live.”

“I will do no such thing,” she hisses, “I will not be loyal to a beast that kills children and invades a nest.”

“Kill children?” Megatron hummed, “And what do you think will happen to your children that you so abandoned to the Autobots? Do you really think they are safe with them?”  
“The other clan leader came to me with words of peace, he brought me a gift of peace, you attacked my nest. You threaten my children… and you dare ask me to claim loyalty to a barbarian clan? My children are with those that came to me in peace, I am content to die knowing they are not with you.”

“You think I am going to kill you? Oh no, Predaqueen, I do not intend to kill you. Not yet at least. I have use for you.”

She growls low in her chassis, her talons flexing, and she digs her peds into the ground in her attempt to free herself again. Anything to tear his mouth from his helm. “For now, you need to be trained.”

Megatron shoves the rood into her midsection, and Predaqueen snarls at the thought of being shoved, not being electrocuted. The female throws herself forward as best she can, pushing herself into the shock-stick and disregarding it entirely. Her teeth snap, so close to Megatron’s throat that the warlord has to step back to evade. She’s still snarling at him, watching him with feral eyes with every intention to maim and kill.

Megatron studies the spot the shock-stick had made contact, only a cosmetic scorch mark that she likely didn’t feel. How thick was her armor? What lay underneath? There is so much about the Predacon species that they don’t know about, he would have to contact Shockwave to gain more data if he were to properly train her.

“Hmm… full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Predaqueen only hisses in response.

Three days have passed since the younglings were brought to the base, and the Autobots quickly learn of how much work it takes to keep them fed and occupied. The first morning since their arrival, they had cried and cried, their little helms bobbing and weaving before Ratchet had entered his medical bay. Thankfully, they hadn’t escaped the enclosed nest he had made for them.

Ratchet had tried to feed them raw energon, but they ignore it entirely, still whining loudly and batting the gate that kept them in their nest. He then tried to give them processed energon, which was also ignored save for a short investigation period. They sniffed it, the youngling with blue armor shoved his helm into it and the others didn’t appear to enjoy the scent coming off it.

The blue sparkling then needed a bath, much to Ratchets dismay.

He held the sparkling as he used a bowl to pour warm water and solvent over his helm. The sparkling seemed to really enjoy this treatment, but its hunger was still present. It latched onto one of Ratchets fingers, front paws kneading gently, and the old medic could feel a slight suction on his finger as it tried to fuel in the only manner it knew how.

They were still nursing, they weren’t old enough to fuel themselves properly. So, after an hour working with Wheeljack and handing off the hungry younglings to Ultra Magnus (he wasn’t amused in the slightest being covered with cooing baby predacons, Miko had taken many photos) an energon processor was made to purify the energon several times.  
The end product was a very light shade of pink, almost transparent in color. A feeding method also had to be made. Raf had suggested using ‘bottles’, like humans did with their younglings. It could hold the energon while the younglings suckled from a mesh nib that would replicate a feeding nib of their carrier. Easy to make. Little mess.

Thus, began to round the clock feeding schedule. They had to be fed at least four times a day, and they would wake up frequently during the night demanding fuel as well. When Jack rode in on Arcee, the young human was witnessing Smokescreen, Bumblebee and Ratchet in the middle of feeding the younglings. Ratchet was handling the injured blue sparkling, by far the calmest of the three who was nursing his own bottle, kneading blunted paws on the medic’s hand that fed him.

Bumblebee held the olive Predacon, its limbs on either side of his arm as his opposite hand held the bottle steady.

Smokescreen was having the most trouble. The sparkling with the darkest armor was squirming in his hold as the Autobot tried to maneuver his little frame in his lap with little success. This sparkling as also the most vocal.

“Stop teasing him!” Ratchet snapped, “Don’t hold him like a human infant, they don’t like that, puts their weight on their wings.”

“He won’t stop squirming!” Smokescreen whined, trying once again to hold the Predacon as he refused to take the fuel. “How does Ultra Magnus do this?”

Arcee transformed and stood at her full height, taking a moment to watch the scene with sparkling predators and her friends. The dark sparkling growled, barking and snapping little teeth at the hands that were trying to feed him. This sparkling wasn’t happy with Smokescreen.

Smokescreen groaned and gave up on trying to feed him and set him outside of his lap. The sparkling made an immediate bee-line towards Ratchet. “Hand me the bottle Smokescreen.”

The youngest Autobot did, not even looking at the medic as he just held the bottle at an angle for the youngling to fuel himself. The dark sparkling attached to the nib, lifting his front end to plant his paws on the bottle itself and pressing his aft-end to the floor. “Looks like you got a little fan club Ratchet.” Jack smiled, Miko took a photo from over his shoulder, he heard the click of her camera before he saw her. “So… do they have names yet?”

“Not yet.” Ratchet stated, holding two bottles steady, “I’ve spoken with Optimus, in case their carrier already gave them designations we shouldn’t confuse them.”  
“Any leads on Predaqueen?”

Ratchet sighed, his shoulders dropping. “Not yet. As of right now, we believe she’s currently being held prisoner on the Nemesis. The tracer we placed on her is being blocked, so far, nothing.”

“Right now,” Wheeljack spoke up from the main monitor, “We’re trying to locate Predaking. We know for a fact that overgrown lizard was trying to find her, data-logs from the past few days suggest he still is, despite Predaqueen being taken by Megatron. I honestly think he doesn’t know she was attacked.”

“So what,” Arcee spoke up, shifting her weight, “We just tell Predaking that Megatron attacked Predaqueen and took her prisoner? I don’t think that he would believe us.”

“Believe us or not, it doesn’t change the fact that we have to try.” Ratchet informed, “These younglings may be in our care, but they cannot survive without their carrier. The fuel I’m making right now doesn’t contain what they really need, and I can’t remake a supplement fuel for very long. It’s only a matter of time before their frames begin to burn through this fuel faster then they can consume it.”

“…I’m not following, I thought the supplements were good for them.”

Ratchet shifted, taking a moment to gather himself as the injured sparkling finally finished with his fuel and was quickly beginning to enter a state of recharge in his lap. “The fuel they’re used to is taken directly from Predaqueen’s feeding lines. It contains a special formula of energon that includes trace minerals that aid in the growth of their frames and processors. It is made explicitly for her species, I don’t have the data to recreate it nor the means to recreate it. They aren’t meant to fuel with the same grade as us, eventually their frames will starve.”

“So,” Wheeljack injected himself back into the conversation, “We need to get Predaqueen back with her creations as soon as possible. Since we can locate her, we need to locate Predaking who can find the Nemesis.”

Bumblebee beeped in agreement.

Four days have passed since Predaqueen was captured.

Along with keeping the tanks of the sparklings full, they also needed a method of keeping the young occupied and active. Bulkhead and Miko had immediately volunteered for this. Using a yoga ball Miko had found at a thrift store, and some sturdy metal mesh that had been added to a junk pile, Bulkhead fashioned a ball the predacons couldn’t pop with their still blunt talons. They could swipe at it, jump on it, chase after it without causing to much damage.

Miko had also added her own flair to it. Inside the ball, she added jingling bells, and spray painted it with bright and colorful stars and spots and even added glittering streamers.  
All three of the younglings adored this toy. It kept them active and occupied for hours. It was kept in the training room where Bulkhead had built a small basketball court, so long as it wasn’t in the main control center or the medical bay and the young were under supervision, Ratchet had allowed it.

Bulkhead gently swatted the ball back towards the predacons, and two of the three chased after the ball. The third, the blue sparkling with the injured leg, panted, but did not fallow his brothers for the beloved toy. Ratchet had put his leg in a brace, it aided in his walk cycle, taking the majority of his weight, but the medic had decided that he was still to young for him to confidently perform such an invasive surgery on his hip joint.

He was still gathering material, scanning his brothers routinely to better fabricate a new joint socket to replace the melted one he currently had. This youngling needed to gain more mass, to have a better chance at success.

Miko hummed, moving to stand near the blue sparkling, making sure he heard her approaching him as he stood by himself. His little wings fluttered, watching his brothers as if he couldn’t decide if he wanted to join them or not.

“Hey little guy, what’s wrong? Tired?”

The blue sparkling, the size of a small horse when compared to Miko, turned his helm to her. Purple optics watching her for a moment, before making a muted warbling sound as he began to make his way across the court towards the massive green mech watching them for the afternoon. Miko followed him, putting a hand on his shoulder strut. With the brace, it gave him a strange gait, his hindquarters had to swing to get his leg to move forward, sometimes setting his frame off balance, but Ratchet hopes that he would learn how to walk with it properly until the time he could be fully repaired.

“Yeah, you’re tired. That’s it, you’re doing so good!” Miko encouraged him to walk forward, even patting the back of his neck as Bulkhead crouched to one knee. “He’s walking better at least. He was dragging it before.”

“Yeah, he is.” Bulkhead agreed, huffing in amusement as the blue Predacon situated himself between his peds with a huff. “Careful Miko, that one likes to cuddle.”  
The sparkling rumbled, it wasn’t a threatening sound, it was a sound that reminded Miko of an overgrown cat. “Blue here can cuddle if he wants to. I think he’s earned it. Don’t you Blue?”

The sparkling warbled more, setting his helm on Bulkheads ped and relaxed, stretching out his limbs and tilted to rest on his uninjured side.

Predaqueen is still trying to escape her chains, but after five days without a proper meal, her frame has become weak and sluggish. It isn’t until the sixth day that she hangs limply in her bindings, her helm looking up towards the ceiling and her optics dim and on the verge of stasis. This was valuable data, a major drawback of their frame was that she burnt through her fuel quickly, and her situation is only made worse when a portion of her fuel is directed towards her feeding pouches, which were currently full and sore from the constant pressure.

Once more, the doorway of her cell opens, and she doesn’t react to it. She can identify the steps, it’s Megatron again.

However, he was not alone this time. Her helm rolls between her shoulders, her visuals lock onto this new mech before her. He’s a dark shade of purple, his helm long, and only a single red optic that betrays nothing and no visible mouth.

“Do you recognize me?” His voice echoes through the small room, “I am your creator.”

She gathers what little strength she has to growl low at him, even baring her teeth in a clear warning.


	9. To Show, To Tell

“Do you recognize me?” This one-eyed creature asked, how he was able to speak without a mouth was due to speakers hidden behind the armor around his neck. “I am your creator.”

She growls low in her chest, baring her teeth to him. She barely has the energy to do much else. She is weak, her feeding pouches are full and sore, and the weight of her armor keeps her from moving.

“You will cease this unnecessary behavior.” He stated then, without a care of her clear challenge, “It is illogical to fight. You are damaged. You are under fueled. It would be wise to submit to your Lord Megatron.”

“I will not.” She seethed, “I will not submit. I will never submit. I will die before I kneel before this _thing_ before me.”

Her ‘creator’ did not react. Megatron showed his own sharp teeth in amusement to her declaration. Stepping forward without fear of being maimed, he slowly lifted his arm and wrapped his sharp fingers around her throat. It was a gentle grip, tight enough to tilt her towards him, close enough to feel his breath. She kept contact with his crimson optics, refusing to back down as he desired a show of surrender.

“You have to admire the strength of predacons.” The warlord hummed, tilting her side from side to side as if he were inspecting an item, she kept her optics on him. “I used to read of your species when I was but a gladiator in the Pits of Kaon. Your kind were a symbol of strength, endurance and freedom.”

She hisses at him.

Six days have passed since the female was brought on board of the Nemesis, and Starscream has tried time and again to convince his ‘master’ that the beast needed to be put down. It’s a feral monster, unlike Predaking, it holds no loyalty to its creator, and views modern Cybertronians as nothing but talking animals.

Predaqueen is before him, the only thing in the isolation cell held up by chains that were specifically designed to hold her and withstand her incredible strength. The cell itself is barren, no windows, a single point of entry, and a console that would allow the chains to grow slack or tighten. There are camera’s pointing at her from all directions, and Soundwave is monitoring her at all times.

Despite being contained, there is always a small sliver of a chance that she could escape and wreak havoc aboard the ship. Something Megatron wants to avoid at all costs.

She’s nearly twice his height, heavier, but there are other things that has the scientist within Starscream simply _fascinated_. How does a Predacon, a primitive beast, able to locate raw energon while modern scanners can barely find them on the surface?

During a theoretical conversation with the ships small team of scientists, Starscream had enjoyed himself talking to them about the possible ways a Predacon could find fuel. How they could have evolved to do such a thing? What mechanics were hidden away within their frames that allowed it? How was it that Predaqueen could, but Predaking could not? Was this ability taught, or was it learned? If so, could Predaking learn how to locate energon as well?

“Wow.” Knockout whistled, the female is hanging limp in her chains, her helm hung forward as a sedative was fed directly into her system. “Predaking said she was large, but I figured she would be tall and lean like our femmes. Guess Predaking has a thing for big girls. Oh they grow up so fast.”

Starscream rolled his optics, pulling the cart of instruments behind him. “Please, no graphic images. I don’t want to even think of the possibility of those two _breeding_.”

“I’ll try to keep it friendly. ‘Try’ is the keyword here.”

Starscream forced himself not to retort, instead, he begins to catalog the differences between her frame and Predaking’s. “Begin scanning her, let’s see just how dense this armor actually is. Shockwave reported that she didn’t even feel the prod at all charge.”

“Really?” Knockout held up a scanner, slowly moving it over her left arm from servo to shoulder. “Not even a flinch?”

“I was the watching the visual feed with Soundwave, there was no reaction. Either she didn’t feel it, or she has a high pain tolerance.”

The scanner beeped, and Knockout studied the readings for a moment, his optics going wide. “Oh.”

“What?” Starscream’s wings hitched up, that wasn’t an ‘oh’ of disappointment, but one of surprise. “What does the scanner say?”

“Along with her armor being incredibly thick, she has no weapons. There’s nothing suggesting any inbuilt firearms.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Scan the right side. See if the results are the same. I’m going to scan her chest armor.”

Within minutes, the same results popped up on the scanner. No firearms. Predaqueen could not fight long range while in root-mode. Her armor was found to be thicker than a standard war-frame. They overlapped over most of her frame, only vulnerable at the joints to allow them freedom of movement. However, even her joints were reinforced and take some serious damage. No wonder she was always out hunting for energon. Her fuel requirements must be incredible.

“If she fueled with standard energon, she would require at _least_ ten cubes a cycle. I’m honestly not sure if just energon would be enough to power her frame however, I would need to pump her tank to see what her diet is.”

Starscream hummed, waiting for the scanner to compile the data from her chest armor. When it finally beeped in completion, Starscream transferred it to read it on a larger screen on the side console. Like her arms, the armor overlapped, a thick gap between each plate to allow her smoother mobility. Underneath it was interesting.

Her ignition chamber was right below her spark chamber, encased in a heat-proof shell to protect her spark from her own natural weaponry. Beside her ignition chamber, was her energon filtration system. Where a modern mech had only a single system, this female had a total of _four_ filters to grind down raw energon and screen it of impurities. However, the impurities were not wasted, elements such as iron and nickel were melted down and relocated through her frame, allowing her to grow thicker armor as she would age. The final filtration system moved energon elsewhere, to what Starscream believes to be the feeding pouches as there are little nubs, six in total, lining each side of her lower stomach under plating. Suggesting a female could have six or more young during a gestation cycle.

The pressure on these pouches also suggested they were overly full, and it was only a matter of time before they would start to leak.

“We could collect some valuable data,” Knockout stated, “We just need a more in-depth scan of her chest and we should be able to remove the armor and drain the pouches.”

“Perhaps.” Starscream agreed. “Drain them. I will scan her helm and processors. I want to see what allows this beast to locate energon.”

With a flick of a switch, the ceiling opened up to reveal another scanner, one that connected directly to the console and it began its slow journey from the top of her helm to her shoulders. It would take time but Starscream is certain the wait will be worth the data it will collect.

Knockout hummed to himself as he went to work on removing her chest armor. Constantly looking back at the previous scan to locate latches and it was here they was another discovery was made.

Mirco-Transformation-Cogs.

Impossibly small, well hidden in her protoform along her sides and more had been found along her back. They allowed the smaller plating to pull back and fold in on themselves away from the feeding nubs to allow her young to fuel from her while in root mode. It did not pull back the upper armor protecting her spark, only her stomach plating. With transformation still within its early stages of evolution, her species were already on their way to only possessing a single T-cog.

The scientist within Starscream was simply _giddy_ over this newfound information.

“…is it wrong to think these are adorable?”

Knockout thumbed one of her fueling nubs, they were mailable to the touch, a lighter shade of protoform that betrayed the glowing energon behind them. Starscream watched as Knockout lightly pinched one, and slowly, lavender-pink energon began to fall between his finger and thumb. It wasn’t a liquid had Starscream believed it would be, not did it escape through a single point. The fuel came out like warm syrup, slow going, and a lightly sweet smell began to permeate the cell.

The seeker studied the Predacon, still sedated, and no reaction to such a sensitive system being touched.

Knockout retracted his hand, slightly disgusted to have such a sticky substance on his hand and brought it to his face. “Smells sweet…” Starscream balked when the red medic _licked it off his hand_. “Tastes sweet to. Like…” he took another lap at his finger, “Almost like… do you remember what those treats were called? I know they sold them in Iacon, they were a higher quality of energon cream they filled oil-cakes with?”

“Are you talking about the oil cakes or the actual cream cakes?”

“…hmm… the cream ones. I can’t remember what they’re called.”

“I think you’re talking about the Baron Cake cream. It’s the only one that comes to mind… let me try.”

Using the flats of his talons, Starscream took hold of another nub, and allowed a thick dollop to build up on his fingers before slipping it into his mouth. It really was sweet, warm from her frame. He can taste elements like iron, nickel, mercury, but it was the sweetness that he wasn’t familiar with. Taking a test tube from the cart, Starscream waited, holding it up to the nub until it was full and capping it.

“Drain them. I will go and prepare the lab to perform an analysis.”

“Very well.”

With the sweetness stick to his tongue and tub in hand, Starscream left the cell with the medic and the slumbering Predacon. The door sealed shut behind them, leaving Knockout to allow him to sigh at finally being freed from Starscream’s presence.

The nubs that had been pinched, were now freely leaking, the pressure of the pouches could no longer contain the fuel. Knockout went to work, A small suction cup attached to a pump was pressed to all but one nub and flipping the switch, there was finally a reaction from Predaqueen.

It was a small shuddering sigh, but Knockout’s audios had caught the small sound of relief. “Can’t drain them on your own, can you?”

He knew the Predacon can’t answer him in her sleep. He palmed her stomach between the tubes as the fuel slowly made their journey to the collection container. “Not to worry, the doctor is here.”

Knockout studied the remaining nub he had left alone. With Predaqueen’s impressive height, her arms held up by chains, he was at eye level with the nub. The sweet smell had gotten thicker now that all were being drained, the taste from earlier still on his glossia and he simply couldn’t take his optics off it.

The nub was right here. There was no one stopping him from partaking and they would have collected _more then enough_ to study from. He licks his lips.

He leans forward, placing a hand on her stomach and the other on her side as if to hold her in place. His lips wrap around the nub and he begins a gentle suction. Almost immediately, the sweetness touches his tongue and he sighs in pleasure of the taste.

A reward for dealing with Starscream. A treat for all his hard work. He dimly notes that his energy levels rise, the heat that fills his tank makes him feel almost sluggish as if he were on the cusp of recharge. Passing over his glossia, the sweet fuel had a silk like texture that passed through his own filter with extreme ease. His mouth moves without him consciously thinking about it. His frame presses against Predaqueen as he makes himself comfortable.

The slumbering female above him only sighs when the last of the fuel is taken from her frame. The pressure finally gone, her talons minutely flex, a simple curling of her fingers, but otherwise, she did not awaken under the weight of the drugs coursing through her system.

The collection jar is almost full, and Knockout finally parts from his own feeding nub when there is nothing left for it to give. Knockout takes a quarter of the collection into a separate container, part for his own study and part to enjoy it once more.

It’s been eight days Predaqueen was brought onto the Nemesis, and the last day days she had been sedated and fueled. With her pouches now emptied of their contents, her frame was preparing a portion of the fuel injected into her system to refill the pouches, much to Knockout’s delight. Imagine, to his utter surprise and amazement, waking out of recharge the next morning after his meal from Predaqueen to find his armor nearly _glittering_. He looks at himself in the mirror, the color was bold, he looked as if he had just waxed but he had yet to touch any product to repair his appearance. His systems felt as if he was given a class-A tune up, his engine humming pleasantly, still feeling the aftereffects of the Predacon fuel.

Starscream had collected a sample to study, and even he was amazed to find what the formula was. There was energon, filtered by four separate systems, trace metallics, but looking even closer still, Starscream had found _nanites_. Active nanites.

More specifically, repair nanites that carried frame data from the carrier frame to the still developing sparkling frame. These nanites were charged, positively buzzing with activity as they traveled aimlessly, breaking down and building up the formula within the test tube. When Knockout burst into his lab, both Starscream and Knockout began to talk about the formula without letting the other start first.

“My armor!”  
“Nanites!”  
“It’s just glistening!”  
“Allows growth and promotes the frame!”  
“I’ve never been so shiny! I’m beautiful!”  
“Nanites from the inside! It’s how they repair to quickly!”  
“My engines running smoother than ever!”  
“A slow introduction!”  
“Look at me!”

Needless to say, when a drone had walked in to drop off some reports to the Air Commander, he was witness to two mechs giddy over some sweet-smelling fuel.

They both hover over the sample in the microscope, its view currently being projected on the monitor as they witness the active nanites still moving about, despite being taken from Predaqueen’s frame, they retain a charge that had yet to dissipate.

“Of course, no one could have known about it,” Knockout states, looking over his arms, his armor surface is gleaming and his protoform feels more relaxed than ever. “For one, they were never looking for, and, something so small couldn’t have been preserved if it was a fuel source.”

“But we know about it now.” Starscream retorted, “I didn’t have _nearly as much as you_,” He cast an accusing side glance at the red medic who ignored him entirely for the mirror, “But even I noted some irregularities with my fuel pump within the last twelve hours.”

“Oh? Such as?”

“Higher performance. I’ve been processing my energon better, impurities are being broken down faster and I’ve had a higher energy output during flight. Almost a twenty-percent increase in fact. Did you have a diagnostic performed when you noted differences in your own frame?”

“Of course, I did.” Knockout grinned, “Like you, a higher energy read out, my engine’s running smoother, a higher temperature, only by a few degree’s but I’ve found that it’s affected my protoform more than anything. I online this morning feeling more… loose I suppose the correct term should be. I’ve found it easier to move in my armor. I even looked under my armor and found some old scars I’ve had since the beginning of the war were beginning to _heal_.”

Knockout has never seen Starscream so excited to exchange information and hypothesis before this moment. He was almost pleasant to be around. The seeker was studying the monitor again, pointing a long slender talon towards one nanite.

“This one right here. It’s far larger than the others. I believe this one is a repair nanite, compared to our own, it’s massive.”

“Well, to be fair, it came from a massive Predacon.”

“Hmm. True. However, this begs the question, ‘Why would there be repair nanites in fuel designed for sparklings’?”

It was a good question, and so testing began. Starscream had to remind Knockout _not_ to eat the fuel they needed for the tests. Several times.

Predaqueen sighs when she’s finally able to open her heavy optics, her frame feels like lead, and she barely has the energy to look around her surroundings. She tugs at her chains, but like before, they hold firm. Dimly, she notes that her pouches are no longer sore, they must have drained them, and peering down, she see’s that her armor had parted to reveal the feeding nubs.

They had _taken_ the fuel meant for her brood. She has to escape. She has to leave this prison cell. It’s been to long, how were her children being fed?

She wills herself to calm, she has to think of how to escape. Though she will not admit defeat, she knows that she cannot scape by herself. She growls, testing her vocals, and the sound vibrates through the room. Her thoughts fill with the other Predacon under Megatron’s control. He believes this clan leader has told him the truth, that his clan leader wanted Predaqueen to join their clan with the promises of safety and protection of her brood. Megatron has kept him out of this place, no doubt still under the pretense of searching for her and her nest.

She abandons the thought. She cannot rely on something that might never come to the ship, or close enough to call to him. She will have to escape herself, and she will.

Her frame is already hard at work with the sedative. Slowly, but surely, the sedative is being rendered useless, she barely feels it after her long slumber. Even as its being pumped with the fuel to her system, her natural repair systems are breaking it down before it can reach her second fuel filter.

Her levels are rising, slow and steady, but they are rising. She just has to remain patient and wait. She was weak when Megatron had taken her out of the sky, but once her levels reach maximum capacity, his clan would burn, and there would be nothing to save them from the fire.

She lets her helm hang, appearing as if she had fallen victim to the sedative once more, but she enters a light stage of recharge. No point in wasting energy.

They can do whatever it is they want with her, for now, she will endure.

They are simply adding fuel to the fire to burn them with.

Predaking soars over the woods once more, the spot where they had dueled shortly is still crushed and burned, a marker he had returned to time and again. He had found the nest, beside a shallow pound and hidden by the thick ceiling of trees and massive stone. The question was, where was she now?

He studies a map of the land, blips of past nests that he had checked over the last four days to see if she had returned to any of them. So far, nothing. As if she had simply vanished.

He eliminates locations that couldn’t hide her nest. Open plains, human settlements, and roadways would have forced her to relocate. To close to humans, she would want her children safe and hidden. He marks places she often returns to, places where she had dug for energon or raw materials. Again, nothing. He had visited those places, her scent was gone, and there was no evidence that she had returned.

However, the scent of the Autobots at one such location had put him on edge. Had they found her? Had they destroyed her? The Autobots, though they are weak, have numbers on their side, and if they had found her with her children, she would have been vulnerable. She would have fought to protect her children, to the death if need be.

Did she perish in her attempts to protect her nest?

It is a grim reality, it is a thought he doesn’t want to dwell on, a fear he doesn’t want to feed but the visions of her laying gray and dead, her nest destroyed, and her children captured and leashed like _animals_, haunt him.

However, he knows first hand that the female is strong. She is powerful.

If she was captured, his first course of action should be to find the Autobots.

With enough energon, he can bring to the Autobots to _him_.

Ratchet hums, and finally allows the squirming olive youngling free from his hands. “Alright, you’re good. Go play with your brothers.”

The sparkling answers with a high-pitched warble and waddles off as fast as he can to join his nest-mates playing with their favorite noisy and colorful ball. Ratchet remains crouched for a moment longer, using his hand to pet the blue sparkling curled against his ankle. Since they don’t know their designations, and they had decided not to give them new ones in case their carrier had already named them, they called them by color to identify them.

Green. Blue. Black. Simple to remember. They didn’t always respond but that was natural.

Blue purred, lifting his helm and pressing into his warm servo, even rolling onto his side to show off his still soft belly for Ratchet to rub and pet. Belly rubs were a favorite among them. Ratchet suspects this was a show of submission and trust, Blue, the most docile of them, does this often.

“You guys are so fat for little predacons.” Ratchet murmurs more to himself than to Blue, Ratchet glances around, he’s the only mech in the room and then back to Blue. He rubs the warm belly a little more, “Fat belly~.”

Blue chirps and cheeps, as if agreeing with the medic. Little paws wave in the air, trying to catch the medics hand and succeeds. He clings on for a moment, but releases Ratchet in their own little game of cat and mouse. Ratchet flutters his fingers, letting him play with them as he pleased.

Through the tunnel, the sound of an engine filters through the base. Green is the first to screech loudly in his excitement, Black fallows only a moment later towards the sound. To keep the younglings within the training hall, Wheeljack had taken the advice from Miko of setting up what she called the ‘baby gate’. A barred gate to block the exits and keep the sparklings in one room in case they tried to sneak off. They can’t climb over it and they can’t get under it.

Black and Green both huddle at the gate, tiny maws open, calling out for their ‘favorite’ mech that wasn’t Ratchet.

Blue rocks himself, trying to get back onto his feet by himself, and used his wings to push himself onto his belly. Ratchet huffs, watching as the little Predacon stumbles to his feet and waddles as fast as he can to join his brothers.

Before he could reach the gate, the mech they were calling out for was looking down at them with stern optics.

“Hello Ultra Magnus,” Ratchet greeted him, standing straight and walking towards the three Predacon’s still begging for his attentions. “Anything to report?”

“Not at this moment.”

Blue can’t stand on his hind limbs like his brothers, so, instead, he tries to flap his miniature wings and lift his head as high as he can towards the Autobot to call for him. Green has his front paws on the gate, trying to find purchase to claw his way up and Black is nearly bouncing, as if he wants to jump but not entirely sure. This resulted in a very wriggly Predacon.

Ultra Magnus glances down at them, which only makes them more excited to finally have him looking at them.

“Locating Predaking has proven difficult, he has been on the move almost non-stop for the last four days. He’s been visiting the females old nesting sites.”

“So that proves it, he doesn’t know that Predaqueen is aboard the Nemesis.”

“Correct.” The blue mech steps over the gate, intent on heading into the command center. Then young are quick to follow him. They trail behind him quickly, trying to keep up with his long strides. Black is the quickest among them, and he is the first to attempt to leap onto the Autobot’s leg. Little claws attempting to anchor themselves, but he falls to the floor, only to scramble back up and attempt once more. When Green tries, Ultra Magnus adopts a faster pace. The younglings call out for him, the loudest of them being Blue, who hasn’t reached the halfway point between the baby-gate and the opposite entrance where Ultra Magnus is headed.

Ratchet steps away from his teammate, turning heel with the intent of picking Blue up before he could possibly injure himself. The Predacon is moving as fast as he can, A few steps closer and Ratchet can hear him gasping from his sudden exertion of activity. His little mouth is open, panting as he inhales suddenly when he has to swing his braced leg to move forward.

“Magnus, maybe you should…”

Ultra Magnus had already stepped over the second gate, leaving Black and Green behind it to begin their begging shouts once more. Blue was a fair distance away still; his brothers and Ultra Magnus had reached the other side before he could even get halfway.

Ratchet knelt beside the sparkling. Blue had stopped, lifting his helm as he watched as Magnus vanished from his view around the corner of the next hallway. He’s panting, and Ratchet doesn’t like the sound of the wheezing gasps he’s making. Blue warbles a low sound, still looking at the hallway as if the blue mech would suddenly reappear.

He doesn’t join his brothers, instead, is remains where he is, panting and Ratchet watches as his legs quiver from exhaustion. The medic sighs, “It’s alright.” He soothes, cupping his hand around the sparklings middle before lifting him. “You did your best. I think that’s the fastest I’ve seen you move so far.”

He performs a quick scan with the sensors in his hands. The sparklings’ little engine is running hotter than normal but was slowly releasing the heat through his still thin armor.

The afternoon Ratchet spent with the three, Blue remained at his side as his brothers played with the ball.

Results of the testing had come on the tenth day of Predaqueen’s capture. The results had astounded Starscream, and Knockout had gorged himself on the remaining fuel left over as was promised for his cooperation.

They used voluntary drones for the experiments. The first experiment, drone A was given a fixed amount of the fuel to drink, and kept under overnight observation while being hooked up to several monitors. Knockout had performed an examination before he was entered for the testing, and he was given a clean bill of health. The next day, the same Drone was examined again, and Knockout recorded the findings to compare with the previous test.

Drone A’s exam found that his engine did run at a higher energy production, the lining of his fuel pump and connecting lines were found _clean._ Not a speck of debris from previous energon consumption, and a millimeter-thin lining had also formed overnight. This lining was found to have created a protective barrier inside cables, allowing energon to pass through quicker and did not allow impurities to settle and build up along the surface. Impurity build up along fuel lines is common, something that their frames would naturally break down during routine maintenance and medical visits if cases were severe enough to impede energon flow to the fuel pump. Spots were energon corrosion had begun, were found smooth and almost completely repaired.

Samples of energon directly from the pump had also explained where the impurities had gone. The impurities, elements that were not normally used by their frames, were found to have been broken down further by the nanites to near microscopic proportions and passed through filters and used _by_ the Predacon nanites as a foundation for locations that were deemed important for immediate repair. Knockout noted how similar Predacon nanites behaved as if they were organic repair cells.

With fuel lines running clean, energon passed through the frame at a higher quality, and once passing through the pump, the nanites were found to have almost doubled in numbers, distributing themselves around the frame of the drone to coat more lines with this thin barrier and progress with repair from the inside.

A standard mech had repair nanites, but when compared to the level of activity to the nanites from a Predacon, it made a modern nanite look _slow_ and almost redundant. With repairs coming from the inside and heading outward, the result the next morning had shown through with the drone having healthier protoform, and thus a healthier looking set of natural armor.

However, the Drone was observed to take a higher amount of energon.

This sparkling fuel must have been the secret to the success of the species before they were suddenly wiped out on Cybertron. Excellent parenting to protect the young, and a steady diet of nanite rich fuel that aided in their frame development at an early age would have given them the ability to eventually produce these nanites themselves.

The blue print of the nanites would have been fed to the processors of the youngling, by the time they were weaned off of nursing and able to hunt for themselves, their frames were already hard at work at making their own repair nanites. This slow introduction would have prevented them from starving after hatching since the nanites would have needed a vast amount of energon. So, to keep the nanites active within the sparkling, the fuel itself was given a charge, resulting in a tingling aftertaste. The sweet flavor, Starscream believes this is both because of the metallics in the fuel and a possible incentive to keep the youngling nursing.

“Do you think this will taste the same if I froze it?” Knockout asked out of curiosity, once again, Starscream groaned, but it wasn’t one of annoyance, but one at the pleasurable thought of enjoying something he has not have since the war began. Sweetened Energon Pops. “Making a mold for them would be sparkling play.”

With the testing complete, their duties done for the cycle, they were simply toying with the possibilities of what to do with the remaining sweet fuel. With the female still nursing, her frame would make more in time. Candy during wartime was worth every credit and then some.

“Or even little pastries with a cream filling? I think one of the communication drones used too work in a bakery, maybe he remembers how to make them.”

The thought of pastries made the seekers mouth water. “Perhaps you’re not familiar with this, I only remember them being made in Vos and I’m unsure if they were ever sold elsewhere, but they were called Steel Shakes. It was served cold with shaved iron, topped with mercury and also had freshly baked ionized rust-sticks that you’d drink it with and eat later.”

“I’ve had something similar to that, it was called a Barrel Drop in my home state. Frozen energon that was shaved and flavored with something of your choice. You could top it with anything. I used to have one as a reward if I passed one of my exams back in medical school. We could make it ourselves, we’d just need more of this stuff is all.”

It sounded delightful.

Fourteen days.

Blue was currently being held by Ratchet as he settled down in his lap as the medic was at work trying to locate Predaking. The sparklings helm was resting on the table top, his purple optics not on the flashing screen, but instead, watching the smallest human who was crouching just out of reach of his waving mandibles.

As of yet, the younglings have not had much interaction with the humans. They know the humans are smaller, and Ultra Magnus had voiced his concerns that the predacons could possibly harm one of the children while playing. The sparklings, thought incredibly young as they are, were still larger and heavier than any human. They could easily kill a human without the intent to harm.

So most interactions with the humans were done either from afar, or under strict supervision.

Raf reached out, putting his hands on the muzzle of the blue Predacon. “Watch his mouth Raf.” Ratchet commented gently, not to startle the infant, “His teeth might be dull, but he likes to nip every now and then.”

“I am Ratchet.” Raf answered, rubbing the metal, the Predacon warbled and purred, pushing his helm as best as he can from his current position. “How is he doing by the way? Is he walking better with the brace?”

“He’s certainly more mobile. However, I’m thinking of making a brace that would be lighter for him. I think this one is to heavy for him to carry by himself. He can barely keep up with his brothers.”

Raf turned to look over Ratchet’s arm, the other two were currently playing with Smokescreen. The young Autobot was holding one end of a cable as the sparklings tugged at the other end. Miko and Jack were beside the predacons, loudly encouraging them. Raf turned his attention back to the screen, keeping his hands gentle with the Predacon.

“What’s this?”

“This is Predaking.” Ratchet stated, “We’ve been tracking him the last few days. If we have any hope of freeing Predaqueen, then we need Predaking to find the Nemesis.”

Raf studied the screen for a moment, “Why is he traveling so… randomly?”

“He’s been visiting Predaqueen’s past nesting sties in his attempts to find her. We don’t think he knows that she was taken prisoner by Megatron. That rust bucket must be giving him false reports of sightings of her to keep him off of the ship. At least, that’s my theory at the moment.”

Blue warbles in protest when the petting stops, Raf stands up, getting closer to the monitor. “So, what’s the plan? Tell Predaking and hope he believes us?”

“At the moment, that is the only plan we have.”

“What about the tracking device on Predaqueen?”

“Aboard the Nemesis, the tracker is useless. Wheeljack and I decided it would be best for our own safety if we deactivated it for now. We can’t let the Decepticons know where our base of operations is located.”

Raf nodded in agreement, a necessary action they needed to take despite their desire to find her. “…what if he doesn’t believe us?”

Ratchet’s fingers paused for a moment. “He won’t have a voice but to believe us.”

The younglings were being fed when Optimus had called for all Autobots to report to the command center the next morning. There was a sudden in chance the direction Predaking was traveling. The Predacon male had collected a large quantity of energon, and left it out in a flat desert area, it was an obvious trap, if it could have been called a trap.

“He’s calling us out.” Wheeljack crossed his arms. “Big lug might think we have Predaqueen, maybe he wants to use the energon to barter for her.”

Optimus read the data from the console, “Ratchet, did you make the preparations?”

A data-pad was passed from the medic to the Prime. “It’s ready. Hopefully, he’ll believe the truth when he sees it.”

“What’s that?” Smokescreen asked from the floor. He was holding two bottles while Arcee fed Blue in her lap.

“The visual data collected from the perspective of Ultra Magnus, who was the closest to Predaqueen and the younglings when she was captured. As humans say, it is better to show than to tell.”

“Thank you, old friend.” Optimus held the file at his side, “I will approach Predaking first. I hope he is in a listening mood. And I hope even more he will be willing to aid us,” he turned his attentions down to the younglings, “And them.”

Ratchet began to type away at the ground bridge control. “Bulkhead, Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack will be on standby and I will be ready with the bridge should you need a quick escape. I have no doubt Predaking will be volatile.”

Predaking is pacing around the pile of energon he had dug up from Predaqueen’s previous hunts. His core is running hot, prepared to attack the Autobots on sight. He’s growling deep in his chassis, his fuel pump working hard to keep his ignition chamber hot. Desperation has taken hold of the Predacon, and it is not a feeling that he enjoys in the slightest.

The sensors in his wings feel the shift of air before he hears the sound of a ground bridge opening.

He stands firm, planting his peds in the ground, ready to take whatever pathetic shots the Autobots would fire. Through the green portal, Predaking bares his teeth when Optimus Prime strides through with calm steps. Behind him, Bulkhead has his blaster ready to defend his leader, Ultra Magnus steps through with his hands clutching his hammer and ready to swing. Wheeljack is the last to exit the portal before it vanishes, a sword in each hand.

Optimus Prime has weapons, but he does not activate them. Instead, he is holding a data-pad in his hands.

There is a tense moment of silence, before Predaking is the first to break it.

“Where is she?” he seethes, biolights glowing brighter in a clear threat display, “Predaqueen and her children are gone. Where are you keeping them?”

The mechs behind the Prime keep their mouths shut, but the Prime does not.

“Predaking. We do not have Predaqueen in our custody. We were hoping you could be convinced to aid us in our search for her.”

“I have been searching for her!” Predaking retorts, “For days on end I have been searching for her! Nothing! She has built no new nest! She has not hunted energon for days longer! Do not lie to me! Tell me where she and her children are!”

“Her children are safe,” the Prime does not raise his voice, and his stance remains calm but absolute. “Predaqueen was ambushed by Megatron before she could make a new nest. She was taken prisoner by him. We tried to intervene, to keep her out of this war, but we arrived to late to save her, but we were able to save her children from being taken from capture.”

Predaking growls, he doesn’t want to hear that the Autobots have the sparklings. Sparklings to young to be separated from her. “Please,” the Prime stepped forward and held out the data-pad, “I bring evidence against Megatron. He fought Predaqueen when she was weak, she had left briefly to hunt for energon. He damaged her.”

“Why should I believe the word of an Autobot?”

“You do not have to believe my word but believe in what was seen. This is a recording from Ultra Magnus, who was present at her time of capture.”

Predaking growled, leaping forward and swiping the pad out of the Primes hand and jumping back. “I will see this evidence. Do not move.”

_“Very well. Watch Starscream, this is how you put a beast in their place.”_

The recording jumps from viewing Predaqueen, to the mech’s point of view trying to defend himself from a squadron of vehicons and seeker drones. Predaking watches in silence as the mech forces his way through the waves of blaster fire, making his way over to the screaming sparklings that cry out for their carrier. Their carrier was high in the sky, the Magnus watching for the few precious seconds when Megatron shoved his cannon in the space behind her horns, the smoke and Predaqueen’s screech of agony as she fell limp to the ground, hitting the dirt and _bouncing_ with Megatron still on her neck.

The mech doubles his efforts to reach the still screaming children, in the background, he can hear Megatron demanding submission, the sound of the cannon firing again and again and again. The scene is Megatron and Predaqueen once more, but this time, she’s transformed and, on her front, gasping and the armor of her back is twisted and cracked.

Then a drone is roughly pulling a sparkling out of a hole in the ground. The little Predacon is squirming, mouth open wide as he calls out to his creator and trying to set himself free.

_Secure the runts! Go!_

Predaqueen is making a different sound now. One that turns the fire in his chest to ice, it’s a terrifying sound. She’s desperate, she’s _afraid_, and the echoes of Megatron continuing to beat her down echoes over the sound of battle. Even as she is beaten, there is a moment, a split second when Predaqueen and Magnus meet optics.

In that moment, her desperation to save her children, at the cost of her own safety, overrode everything.

A high-pitched sound comes through the small speakers, one that makes his armor bristle at attention. Magnus looks down, the younglings are scrambling for purchase, on his legs and onto his back. One youngling with blue armor and wide purple optics, is lagging behind, his leg severely damaged and dragging in the dirt. He is scooped off the ground by the Magnus and he dives for the portal as the Prime calls for a retreat. They don’t stand a chance against the vast numbers of the drones firing on them.

Magnus had taken one last look behind him, Predaqueen is limp under Megatron’s foot, her arm stretched out as if she was trying to reach them. The scene ends with the old medic demanding answers and the wails of the younglings.


	10. Queens & Lords

Decepticons existed long before the war began. It’s not recorded exactly when they formed, but it is commonly believed the term ‘Decepticon’ was formed to identify a mech who refused to acknowledge the governmental bodies at the time. Those that see through deception, mechs of the lowest classes in Kaon, had coined the term Decepticon to set themselves apart. Before his frame had even begun to form as thoughts in his creators’ processors, mechs before Megatron’s time had laid down the foundations for future Decepticons to walk the same path as they had.

In historical tomes, it all began in Kaon, with a mech whose name was stricken from all records, a mech whose images were destroyed and took root in Decepticon lore.

The Fallen.

In most stories of him, they describe him as a mech who was once a Prime, others say he was a Drone, others believe he was an average mech, but all stories of him end the same. He was the first to openly rebel against the Senate. The mech of Kaon is said to have educated himself in secret, collecting vast archives of knowledge that were forbidden to his frame type on the acceptable notion of the time that such data was useless to someone of his frame make and function.

In time, the stories describe his feats against the Senate. A civil war that lasted a hundred years and at the end, Kaon was named an independent state of Cybertron, the laws and regulations enforced by the Senate held no power over their borders.

With independence, came the symbol of the Decepticons that had not changed since its creation. Some say it is the image of Unicron, others believe it is a representation of the Fallen himself. However, the oldest mechs aboard the Nemesis that still carry the history of Kaon within their sparks say otherwise.

It is the image of a Predacon, who bones litter the soil beneath Kaon, who had been the first of all Kaonites.

There was once an old mech that lived in the same gladiatorial arena that Megatron had come from. He was to old to continue fighting, his armor had grown brittle over the ages and his spark had weakened over his battle with time. However, this did not mean the elder’s processors had corroded, oh no, this old mech always kept the younger gladiators on their toes. When Megatron had been relinquished from the mines and tossed aside, it was the elder that led him to his new life in Kaon and the gladiator ring.

Megatron had not known the symbol upon the elder’s chest until he had inquired about it.

“What is that mark over your chest plates? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before.”

“Coming from a miner, I doubt you ever would if you had not come to Kaon.” The old mech sighed, shifting his weight in his chair as he nursed his own half-cube of energon. “This is the symbol of Decepticons. My sire carried it, his sire carried it before him and so forth. My creation line has been loyal to the Fallen from the very beginning.”

Megatron wanted to know more, and the elder was more than happy to tell the former miner stories of the Fallen and his army of freedom fighters. How he led battles to free Kaon from the grasp of the Senate, how the Decepticons _still_ fight to keep that freedom they had won.

“Is the insignia that of the Fallen himself?”

The elder shook his helm, “No image of the Fallen exists. He made sure of that. The crest I hold dear is the helm of a Predacon. A creature that no mech can tame, wild and free. A creature whose might was so powerful it took a cataclysm to kill them all.”

“Why chose a Predacon if they are dead and gone?”

“Despite being gone, they are remembered, their battles can still be seen today. Look, towards the Helexian mountains, do you see that one here? Towards the center? What could cut a mountain in half? If you look closely, you can see that a Predacon had destroyed half the mountain. Maybe there was a battle, maybe there wasn’t, no one knows. But think of what kind of power that Predacon must have had to split a mountain in two. What better crest to take than that of primal ferocity? We do not take the image of a god because we are not gods, nor do we aim to become a god. The Predacons offer a valuable lesson to all Decepticons, true Decepticons. All things must die Megatron, but we will do whatever we must to leave our mark upon the world for the future generations to see how hard we fought to the grave.”

Despite what other alien creatures may believe, Cybertronians do not live forever. Flicker, flare, and fade as they say. The elder mech had passed away when his spark faded away one night during his recharge before the war began to take root. Megatron will always be grateful towards this mech, his lessons would continue through Megatron and the future generations of Decepticons.

How strange, however, the elder never did tell Megatron his name.

Megatron is watching the Predacon slumber with his third in command at his side. She had shown signs of coming online, but never truly did. She remained as he left her, suspended by the custom chains and sedated as Knockout and Shockwave went to work in investigating how a Predacon could find energon.

With the information gathered from the scans of the unconscious Predacon, Starscream had been given the simple task of creating a collar for the beast. Of course, Starscream did as he was told, manufacturing a collar was sparklings play.

Holding the band in his servo, he glanced over it. It was the perfect measurement to fit tightly around her neck, and several round prongs on the inside would deliver a nasty shock at the command of his Lord whenever he chose. A shock that made a shock-stick look like a bug bite, the Predacon would be forced to obey or forced to suffer.

However, as Starscream finished his work, he had turned his back on it for a moment and didn’t notice it spark at the fuel cell, disconnecting important links to the electrical system. Turning back, he picked it up once more and added the final touches of thick plating to ensure the Predacon couldn’t tear it off.

He waved over a faceless drone and handed him the collar, “Give this to Lord Megatron right away. I will join him shortly.”

“Yes, Sir.”

A newly built collar glittered in his hand when it was passed to him by a construction drone. It had considerable weight to it, and he was warned that if placed around her neck, she would not be able to transform.

However, Megatron had requested that. He knows the power of a Predacon, and he would not allow her to transform and possibly kill him. Though the chances of her killing him were small, they were not small enough to be ignored.

“Excellent work as always.”

Images flashed over Soundwaves visor.

Talk of the Predacon infested the ship like a wave of scraplets. It was all anyone wanted to talk about, whispers of a powerful female held back in chains, on that their lord had personally captured himself. What kind of being was she if their Lord Megatron himself had seen to her capture? Surely, a femme worthy of his personal attention.

Steve and Axe wondered through the hallway, their shifts finally at their end and headed towards their barracks for a night of well-deserved recharge.

“I thought only Predaking was the only experiment Shockwave had.”

“No, he was trying to make an army for Lord Megatron. Autobots blew it up and I guess the female escaped? No loyalty programming was installed. Can you imagine a feral Predacon?”

“I’d rather not honestly. I still have nightmares about the Insecticons.”

“Right.”

Predaqueen onlines her optics at the sound of the door sliding open, she glances at her fuel level which currently read at seventy-three-percent and slowly rising. She growls low when the silver warlord steps over the threshold of her prison cell and he is flanked by two smaller mechs. One has no face at all, a flat screen of glass where is face should be, while the other is almost stick like with a pitiful set of wings on his back. He almost looked sickly had his not been for the shine of his armor telling her of his health.

“I hope you’re enjoying your stay here.” Megatron snipped, “Would you like to be released Predaqueen? I am a mech of mercy, I am willing to give you one last chance to proclaim your loyalty to me, obey me and you and your brood shall not be harmed.”

Her talons click as she flexes them, they were just itching to bury themselves in his armor. “I will tear your soul apart!”

This sickly looking being gave a disgusted huff, his wings hitching up higher in the air in a way that made her armor bristle as if he was making a claim of dominance upon her _on purpose_. She was quick to snarl at him, baring her teeth and jerking in his direction but the chains held tight. She was pleased the result, he gasped, his wings set back down where they belonged, and he took a step back. The other mech did no such thing, there was no reaction.

Megatron moved faster than she believed he could for someone of his size. She roared loud when his harsh grip anchored themselves on her helm. He lifted her slightly, tilting her helm back to expose her throat and she began to wail and thrash as best she could. As always, her bindings held fast and became _tighter_. She tried to bite him, do something, _anything_ to get him off. Her throat is exposed, he could end her life right now.

There was a clicking noise somewhere below her audio, and she tries to wriggle more when she feels something that wasn’t the servos of the warlord around her neck cables.

“There…” Megatron let out with a forceful jerk, “A perfect fit. Soundwave, release her.”

“What?!” The smallest creature sputtered, “My Lord! That beast is feral! At least sedate it more!”

Megatron ignored him, and Soundwave did as he was asked.

So many days of being forced in the same position made her joint ache, and when the chains are released, the cuffs popping open with the push of a button, she cannot stop herself from falling to the ground as she takes a moment for the hydraulics to properly pressurize to sustain her weight. She moves her helm, feeling the uncomfortable sensation of the metal band around her throat.

What wants to think ‘Why did he free her?’ but the only thing running across her thoughts are ‘how many times can I kill him?’.

She was slow to rise to her full height, her optics meeting the glowing red of the warlord. She rolls her shoulders, working out the stiffness in her limbs. She allowed the struts of her wings to _click-click-click_ and she can feel the heat of her ignition chamber begin to rise below her spark.

Megatron had opened his mouth to say something, perhaps an order or a few choice words to berate her, but she had not given him the chance. Being so close, he didn’t have the time to evade her block her as she suddenly charges, snarling as she used her weight to her advantage and used his frame like a battering ram and force him through the cell doors.

Predaqueen entirely ignores the pitter-patter of Starscream’s blasters raining on her back. “You think a collar will hold me back?!” She roared at him, lifting his frame off the ground and she began to swing him over her helm and onto the floor again and again. “You think of me like a beast to come at your beck and call?!”

She tossed him up, and when gravity took over, she threw her weight into a kick that made his frame soar down the hallway and she takes pleasure when he bounces, and he struggled back onto his peds, skidding to a halt.

Predaqueen snarls, looking behind her back and swings her arm, slapping the seeker into the cell and he makes an indentation in the wall. Twisting back, she finds the warlord is back on his feet, his stance is ready for impact as a blade is ejected from his arm.

“Come on then beast,” he taunts her, curling his fingers in a _come here_ gesture, “I bested you once, I will do so again. You will submit to me.”

The female bellows out in answer to his challenge, charging forward, and he does the same. Their armor clashes, sending sparks at the point of impact as one tried to make the other submit. Predaqueen matches him blow for blow. Her talons catch the armor of his chassis, leaving deep holes behind that begin to leak. Megatron thrusts his sword and she dances around it but not able to evade it fully. Her arm is cut, but the energon is already clotting while his own flows freely down his front. Again, and again they charge, at one point, Megatron gripping her collar, and tried to force her to her knees.

Predaqueen lashes out, rolling backward and dragging him with her. Her legs curl and send him hurtling once more. She was on her feet and driving forward towards him once more before he could recover.

They exchange blows, fists meeting her armor, the echoes thrumming down the hallway when she charges him again through another door and throws him off her frame. They were no longer in a narrow hall, but now, they stand in an open room, and behind Megatron, she can see the open sky.

She tried to transform, but the collar makes a low beeping note, and she finds that she can’t. “Finally figured it out?” Megatron chuckles, “You can’t transform, you can’t use any weapons, what will you do Predaqueen? What will you do?”

Predaqueen rumbles, like a sound of rolling thunder as she and the warlord begin to circle each other. They match step for step, watching and waiting and planning. Predaqueen has an idea that _might_ work, but it also _might_ get her killed if she isn’t careful. Instinct drives her to transform and fly off, return to her nest where her children are surely starving and weak and cold. However, she cannot transform, and all the bells are scream _danger danger danger_ in her helm. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

She doesn’t know what else the collar can do, and she doesn’t want to find out. She wants it _off_. And so, she tries, keeping her optics on Megatron as he watches with apparent glee as she fails to rip off the contraption around her neck. Her talons claw at it, she can make a scratch and a nick here and there, but she finds that she cannot pierce it.

“Keep trying,” Megatron boasted, “You might be able to scratch the surface.”

Her hands drop to face the warlord once more. “Come now, if you could defeat me, what would you do then? Leap to your death? Not even a Predacon can survive a fall from this height.”

Predaqueen bristles, her armor flaring as she abandons trying to take off the collar. “That’s the spirit. Come on!”

Megatron makes the first move, and Predaqueen meets him in the middle and before this moment, she has never known such a level of violence. She claws at him, making deep gouges in his armor as he thrusts his weight behind his punches at her chest and shoulders. His legs kick at her own to try and throw her off balance. She roars and snaps her teeth in his face, just shy of ripping off his jaw.

His arm jerks and the wind is knocked out of her when the plating on her side buckles inward. “Come on I said! Fight!” Again, and again, those cruel fists rain down on her and she’s not fast enough to catch them. “_Fight!_”

A blow to the side of her helm sends her to the floor and still, he doesn’t stop. She tries to block him, but her arms are slapped out of the way and those fists begin to rain down on her helm again and again. She cries out in her pain, and she tries to swipe at him to catch onto the old wound.

One succeeded, Megatron grunts when her talons dig into an open wound, digging deeper and this moment gave her enough time to wedge her ped between them and she heaves a shove to get some distance between them. The floor is littered with specks of energon.

Predaqueen pants, trying to take in air and calm down her heated frame but finds it difficult with the collar so tight around her neck. A section is bent inward and pressing into several cables and choking the energon and slowing down its current to her processors.

The Predacon tries to rise to her feet, to meet him in battle once more, but her vision swims, blurring and dizzy and she crumbles to her knees. She was on the verge of suffocating.

“Submit Predaqueen.” Megatron orders, stepping forward to the gasping Predacon, “Obey me. Claim loyalty to me.”

She shakes her helm. Megatron huffs in amusement, “Defiant to the end? Perhaps this is why I’ve always admired your species. Even when you are beaten, bloodied and on your knees, you fight to your literal last breath.”

Predaqueen inhales sharply when his hand grips her lower jaw, forcing her to her feet and to look at him directly.

Megatron is studying her closely, her mouth is open as she tries to breathe, energon is leaking through her plating, perhaps he ruptured something internally and he can feel her pitiful attempt to back away with what little strength she has.

“Even beaten and bloodied, you are _beautiful_.”

The hand gripping her jaw forces her helm back, she’s looking up towards the ceiling and her frame arches to try and alleviate the pressure. “I have been thinking of what else to do with you.” He presses a hand, the one that sported the sword, against her stomach plating, fingers splayed wide as it glides up towards her chest. “How much can you endure before you _finally_ break?”

“I…” Predaqueen choked for a moment, glancing at the sky behind him, “I will not break.”

Megatron smirks, showing sharp teeth and glee in his optics, but his look falls quick when Predaqueen lurches forward, smashing her helm into his and knocking him away. She struggles to her feet, but she remains standing. Leaning forward, she’s able to relieve the stress on her neck, allowing energon to flow better to her processors.

Megatron thumbs away a streak of energon from the corner of his mouth, smiling wide now.

“Marvelous!” He cracked his knuckles, “It’s been such a long time since I’ve had a good workout. Let’s make a wager, shall we?”

Her optics narrow on him, and she hisses in response.

“Oh? And why would I want to wager for my freedom when it is already assured?”

His smirk falls, and his brow comes together as he studies her. “You are damaged, you can barely stand, what makes you think you’ll defeat me?”

Predaqueen inhales and releases a high pitch roar that rattles the flight deck. She had made a similar sound when she ordered her young to make their way to the Autobots during their first encounter. He can feel the vibrations within his chassis, even his vision doubled for a precious second before his audios picked up another sound. Megatron had just enough time to witness Predaking snarl from the entrance of the flight deck, his wings open wide and barreling towards him with his jaws open and talons at the ready.

“Gah!” Predaking thunders over him, his tail catching his armor and violently throwing him to the other end of the deck. He lands on all four limbs, opening his wings and placing himself between the warlord and Predaqueen. She doesn’t waste time, he heard the call and he had answered.

Panting, she heaves herself up and over his shoulder and takes the point at the base of his wings. “Go! We must leave! Go!” She orders him, desperation in her voice because she knows she won’t survive another encounter with the warlord, her young, her nest, she needs to return to her nest.

The male beneath her leaps into action. He gallops towards the open sky, expanding his wings and finally, finally, the sun beats down on her plating as does the rushing of the wind. Under her talons, she can feel the power of his frame, the strength of his armor as he flies hard and fasts away from the Nemesis.

She’s unsure of how long they’ve flown for, but now she notes how hard it is the breath. The air is thinner at this height, her sight is swimming again and no matter how she positions her neck to relieve the pressure of the bent collar, she’s struggling.

“N-Nest!”

Her frame falls against his back, and as her body grows limp, her last moments of awareness is filled with the knowledge that she had slipped from his back and falling freely.

When Predaqueen slipped from his back, his processors reeled when she did not attempt to transform and take flight, instead, her frame was entirely limp, and her optics were offline. Predaking had to swoop down, folding his wings against his frame to reach her before she hit the earth. Grasping her within his talons, he pressed her to his chassis as he flew closer to the surface towards a nest he had only recently found in the woods, close by their last encounter.

The thick trees offered coverage from the sky, and the terrain between the trees offered enough room for him to move about. By a small pond, he had found a cavern that bore the marks of her claws, dead trees decorating to further hide it away, appearing as if they had naturally fallen.

He had to maneuver her from his paws to his mouth, his mandibles spreading wide around her middle, so he could land as gently as he could without jostling her too much and further exasperating her wounds. Quickly, he dove into the space, stepping over the rim of the nest and into the soft layer of sand.

She was placed on her side, her wings would not allow her frame to lay on her back without discomfort or pain to the struts.

He transformed, kneeling down to inspect her wounds and already making plans to contact the Autobots once more.

Her armor was dented, viciously cracked around her chest and shoulders. Dents littered her frame, in some places, he could trace out the warlord’s knuckles. He growls low at the sight of paint transfers. Energon leaked in some places, but he can see that her self repair was working hard to clot the open wounds. However, there was no telling what sort of internal injuries lay underneath.

She wheezed, her mouth open as she struggled to inhale each breath, it was here that he discovered the bent collar. It was thick metal, the bend pressing against vital cables and pinching them, disrupting the flow of energon and air.

It was tight, he finds, he tried desperately to wriggle his talons between her neck and the collar, his intent to tear it off but he could not find suitable purchase to complete his goal.

He doesn’t understand.

Why would Megatron beat her so savagely? Why was Megatron so intent on harming her children?

Questions bloomed in his mind, but they were left unanswered because, in the end, it didn’t matter at this moment in time. She was off the Nemesis, she was alive, and he will reunite her with her children. It didn’t matter to him why Megatron wanted her capture anymore, loyalty to a savage clan leader meant nothing now. Why would he be loyal to a mech that had tried to kill a carrier? Why should he listen to the word of a mech that harmed sparklings?

He can only hope that Predaqueen will forgive him, freeing her was the first step and he will do what ever it takes to earn his place in her good graces.

He has to tear himself away from Predaqueen, instinct tells him to stay by the injured female, keep her frame warm, keep her frame clean to allow her repair to work and keep other predators away. But he can’t repair what he can’t see if there is, indeed, internal damage. He leaps over the edge of the nest, taking hold of a communicator given to him by the Prime before he departed. There is an Autobot on standby, waiting for the word and location of Predaqueen.

Predaking admits to himself that she needs medical attention as soon as possible.

He presses the activation key, “Autobots, this is Predaking, can you hear me? I have her, I have Predaqueen, she’s injured and in need of a healer. Can you hear me!?”

Predaking wants to crush the little device in his ire, and for a few seconds, his sparks reels at the possibility that the Prime had tricked him, putting him in a vulnerable position to kill them both. The device beeps to life, one not of his doing when a voice comes through.

“We hear you Predaking. We will bridge to your location. Do not attack. I repeat, do not attack.”

His audios perk up, the familiar sound of a ground bridge opening outside of the nest entrance, he abandons the communicator, dropping it on the floor in his haste and jumped to action. His optics are greeted with the sight of the Prime once more, flanked by Bulkhead and Ultra Magnus.

“Where is Predaqueen?”

“This way.”

Something deep inside him shames him for bringing outsiders into her nest, but he stamps out that voice. Leading the Prime, his optics land on the limp frame in the center of the bedding of sand. “Predaking, what happened?”

The Prime crouches down, his hovering over her armor but not touching. The tip of his finger pokes gently at the collar around her neck, and Predaqueen wheezes another breath. Every time she breathed, it made his armor flatten against his protoform. The sound was haunting him, as she her frame was on the verge of death.

“Megatron,” Predaking spoke low, “He was beating her. He collared her like an animal. It’s choking her. I can’t take it off. I need tools I do not have.”

Prime lifted a hand up to his audio, “Ratchet, do you read?”

“_Ye,s Optimus. What is her condition?”_

“She needs medical attention as soon as possible. We will be bringing her through the ground bridge with Predaking.”

_“The medical bay is being prepped as we speak. Wheeljack is on standby with the bridge._”

“Very well.”

Predaking had moved around the Prime, his hands poised to pick the female from the ground when he was stopped by the Prime. “Before we bridge her to base, we must ensure she does not have any tracking devices installed by Soundwave or Megatron. I cannot endanger the safety of my team. I hope you understand.”

Predaking paused. Taking in what the Prime had just informed him. What if she did have a tracking device? Megatron could find her again, Megatron could _beat her again_. If he found Predaqueen within the Autobot base, it also meant the warlord would find her sparklings, and his shudders at the thought of the younglings under the boot of the silver mech.

Predaking nods. Ultra Magnus comes forward, Bulkhead guarding the front. In his hand, Predaking see’s a scanner that Knockout had usually favored. Ultra Magnus passes over her frame, he finds one beacon under her shoulder, another wedged between her wing struts, a third in her right heel and a fourth on the dip of her back. He scans her multiple times, and when the scanner comes with the number _zero_, Magnus nods, keeping the still active beacons in the nest clustered together.

“Let Megatron think she’s still here. I need to scan you to. We cannot take chances.”

Predaking stands up and allows it. He doesn’t want to be the reason her children dies. It doesn’t take long, and Magnus only finds two beacons. One he knew about, but a second in his thigh he was unaware of.

“Clean. Optimus, we are ready to return to base.”

“Predaking will carry her.”

And Predaking does. He knows the Autobots will aid her in repair, but he doesn’t completely trust them, not yet. He loops an arm under her knees and under her upper back, Prime helps in angling her helm to allow her to breath as best she can for the short journey to the glowing portal.

Prime leads the way, the Magnus and Bulkhead behind Predaking, keeping him and his cargo in the middle. They are to step through, and the first thing Predaking notes is that their base was underground. Its brightly lit and the ceiling is tall and smoothed over with support beams. Wheeljack does nothing to greet him, only watching with a firm optic as Predaking follows the Prime without a word. The second thing he notes is the sounds echoing from a hallway to the left. He can hear the humans, and he can also hear the sparklings little shouts and pitter-patter of tiny paws chasing.

They sound in good health at least. He hopes that the Prime will allow him to look at them, even if it was from afar, it would be enough to satisfy his need to ensure their health and safety.

Optimus leads him to the hallway on the right, opposite of the hollering young and the sound of bells. He spots the healer, his white and red armor he rarely saw in battle.

“By Primus…” he whispers under his breath, “Here, set her down on the berth. Optimus tell Wheeljack I need him here. Right now. Everyone out!” The medic is firm, and Predaking doesn’t argue or fight. He sets the female on the tilted berth, and instantly, the medic has a welding tool in hand and set to work on removing the collar.

Predaking wants to stay, but he is, once again, lead by the Prime out of the medical bay.

Bumblebee and Arcee had been charged with watching the predacons after their feeding. Newly energized, they batted at their favorite ball and shouted and yelled when it made noise from the bells Miko had put inside. They acted as a barrier, keeping the ball in a tight circle around the humans and the predacons.

Even Blue seemed more active today. His wings fluttered when he was able to swipe at the ball, delighted in the noise that it made, and chased after it with his brothers.

“Go Blue! You can do it!”

Blue chittered loudly, going after the ball as best he can. When it got to far, Miko or jack would kick the ball towards him once more, and the Predacon would bat it towards his brothers who would do the same. Green would leap on it, his belly bouncing on the ball before rolling off it to hit it with his tail. Black would pounce and try to bite it with still dull mandibles, the ball rolling into his side and he would kick it with his back legs.

At times, the three would all bite and latch on, pulling it in three different directions and thus began a three-way-tug-of-war. Blue seemed to really like this game. Despite his injury, Blue would use his front legs to pull back and yank with his helm, sometimes dragging his brothers a few precious inches to victory.

So Miko had made it an official game with the help of Bumblebee and Jack. Bumblebee and woven several cables together, three that joined at a single point with rubber coated rings for the young to bite and grip without harming their dull teeth. Jack had used chalk to make lines where the predacons would stand and hold their ground. Who ever managed to drag their brother completely over this line was proclaimed the winner and got belly rubs, and the losers also got belly rubs for a job well done.

“I can’t tell if they’re like giant cats or giant dogs.” Jack muttered to himself, under the watchful gaze of Arcee as he rubbed Blues belly, who had left the game to take a rest and simply plopped down on his side at Arcee’s ped. “You were so good!” Jack told the youngling, rubbing a little harder so he could feel it. “Such a good little dragon!”

“Are all sparklings like this?” Jack asked, stepping away from Blue who mewled in protest, but Arcee crouched down and took charge of the belly rubs, letting the Predacon bat and playfully nip at her fingers.

“I wouldn’t know.” Arcee answered, “I’ve never seen a sparkling before. How predacons reproduce more like organics I guess.”

“Like organics? Then how do Cybertronians reproduce?”

“That’s a question for Ratchet.” Arcee stated simply, obviously uncomfortable with the ‘birds and the bees’ talk with a human. “He could tell you the process better than I can.”

There was a moment of silence from Arcee, Jack knows that look, she was receiving something over her com-link.

“Predaqueen and Predaking are in the base.” She announced, unsure of how to process this information. Miko beat her to it.

“Mommy and daddy are home!” she cheered, taking greens helm into her hands and rubbing both sides, the olive Predacon sang in delight at having his mandibles massaged, “You excited to see them little guy?! I bet you are!”

The Predacon seemed to dance in place, little paws lifting and dropping in his excitement of having his face rubbed.

“Would you like to see the sparklings Predaking?” the Prime suddenly asked, he was leading the Predacon back to the command center, his tone was polite, giving him the option of accepting or declining. Predaking couldn’t bring himself to ask, so the Prime had asked for him. “I’m sure you heard them playing when you arrived. They’re certainly an active trio. They may benefit from meeting one of their own.”

“Would it be alright? I do not wish to overstep my bounds.”

Predaking isn’t stupid. The Autobots are tense around him, he’s barely welcome here and he can’t take the chance of being thrown out and leaving the female and her young still defenseless. Prime had stated that they would speak about his stay with them once Predaqueen was repaired.

The Prime waved for him to follow, “It is no trouble. Just bear in mind, the younglings are very curious of new beings, so they may nip a little. Be patient with them.”

“Of course.”

Passing the command center, Prime leads them down the hallway to the left, closer towards the sounds of chittering younglings, both Predacon and human. “Watch the gate, we try to keep them out of places they may harm themselves.”

Prime steps over the short gate, and Predaking does the same. The room they were in was large and open, the ground was littered with smaller, crudely made toys with obvious bite marks, and one that caught his eye immediately. A round metal-mech sphere, decorated with brightly colored paints and shimmering streamers. An olive plated Predacon leaped at it, letting it bounce, it must have had bells inside, and chased after it with his darker colored brother.

The yellow Autobot followed them, gently kicking the ball back to them to pounce once more.

The third youngling, his plating a lovely shade of blue was laying beside the female Autobot, plating with her offered servo, fluttering her fingers, he would bat at them and latch on with his mouth before letting go and repeating the process.

They were alive. They were active.

“Guys!” the female human with pink in her hair cheered, “Look whose here?! Daddy’s home! Go get daddy! Go get him!”

Predaking snapped out of it, the human was pointing towards him, and the younglings were all looking at him. All three made a bee-line towards the Prime and himself. Predaking bristled at being put on the spot, but the Prime hummed and patted his shoulder. “It is alright Predaking. Come, meet the younglings.”

Taking only a few steps forward, the Prime crouched down to one knee to allow the sparklings to greet him excitedly. Predaking crouched, leaning forward as the young began to inspect his frame. They were so small, he could lift one with a single hand, curl his fingers and his talons would meet. Their bellies were round and still soft when the olive sparkling heaved himself up on his back legs, planting his front paws on his knees and stretched out his neck as far as he could to inspect the larger male. His darker brother joined him, he was attempting to climb Predaking. Jumping with his hind legs and trying to pull himself up and over his thigh, trying at least.

Predaking looked up, one had finally come over to greet him. His armor was blue, and his optics were lavender, he hobbled his way over, his leg encased in a brace. This must be the one that had been shot.

Predaking leaned forward more, hunching over to allow the younglings to sniff and paw at his face. The younglings huddled together, side by side as their little helms filled his vision. They sniffed, pawed at his chin, and the blue youngling used his mouth to latch onto the final against his jaw. It didn’t hurt, he felt a slight pressure, and he allowed them to know his scent as he got to know their own.

Little paws bat his face, and he allows them to nip and nibble his frame as much as they want.

Arcee kept the young humans behind her ped, watching Predaking closely as he interacted with the younglings.

What was a ‘daddy’? Predaking would ask later.

“…do they have names?”

“Not officially.” Arcee responded, still on edge, “We call them by the color of their armor in case Predaqueen already gave them designations. We didn’t want to confuse them when they were brought back to her… how is Predaqueen?”

“She is in the hands of your healer. Megatron beat her because she would not bow to him.”

“But she’ll be okay right?” Miko spoke up, Predaking turned his helm up to view the human stepping out from behind Arcee, “She’s safe now. Ratchet can fix her up.”

“That he will.” Optimus confirmed, letting the olive sparkling tug at his fingers. “Were they any problem for you Arcee?”

“None. The kids here keep them occupied. I think Bulkhead is going to have to wrap more mesh around the ball though. They’ve been attacking it non-stop.”

“Yeah!” Miko threw her fists into the air, “We can make it bigger! I can get more streamers for it!”

These mechs were nothing like Megatron had described. The Sparklings weren’t being experimented on, they weren’t underweight, they were being cared for to the best of their abilities and it showed. The trio chattered, barking and yipping with Miko, excited that she was making noise and joined in. Predaking’s hand hovered over Blue’s brace, wanting to touch but almost afraid it would snap under his grip.

“What about…?”

“Ratchet wants to wait until he gains more mass. Currently, he is very young, too young for Ratchet to safely perform surgery to repair his hip.”

“Hmm…”

Crouching in front of the younglings, Predaking knows he needs to be cautious of touching them, of leaving his scent on them. With the female not far away, despite being beaten and injured, he knows that his life would be in danger if she caught to much of himself on her children. She might believe he was trying to force himself into her nest, claiming her children as his own, and that would give her all the evidence she needed to put him in the ground.

He stands to his full height, knowing it would be for the best that the younglings don’t touch him too much. They were certainly curious of him without a doubt, before now, the only other Predacon they knew had been their carrier. She likely would have never transformed to root mode with them. In root made, they were at a disadvantage, they had less weaponry at their disposal and they could not use their full strength.

In their alt mode, the female is more dangerous because the female had _evolved_ to be more dangerous. In root mode, the male was more dangerous. In root mode, the male is physically stronger and has the ability to use plasma-based weaponry he can fire at will. This is meant to be used to bring down prey and cut energon to ingest as the jaws of the male in alt mode is not as strong as the female.  
Predacons do not, officially, have a language. Since the majority of their lives are lived in alt-mode, they rely on body language, EM field fluctuations, and scent. In a natural setting, the female would only transform into root mode during mating.

“Optimus Prime,” Predaking turned towards the Autobot leader, “I wish to speak with you in private.”

Optimus nodded, giving the green infant a farewell belly-rub, and standing on his feet.

Ratchet huffed, three hours in surgery and the Predacon was currently unconscious on the medical berth, he welded the last open wound and now he would leave her self repair to do the rest. Wheeljack was sitting across the room, watching the old medic hook up an energon line to her arm.

The collar had taken a full two hours to remove without harming the cables in her neck.

Wheeljack had taken it away to see what it was really meant to do.

“It’s a torture device Ratchet.” Wheeljack informed, “Designed to give her a shock that would have fried a regular mech. Something went wrong, over here,” he points towards a small melted section. “The power source was too much for the coils attached to it. I’m guessing that it fried itself before it was installed on Predaqueen. Whoever made it made it to quick.”

“That might have been the only thing that saved her.” Ratchet agreed, the Predacon was placed in stasis, and when her energon levels reached seventy percent from the current thirty, he would slowly bring her online as not to send her into a panic of being in an unfamiliar setting. “The vital cables in her neck are thicker than our own, but they lead directly to her processors. It if didn’t kill her, it would have potentially damaged them beyond repair.”

“Megatron was serious, he would have been ready to kill her if she didn’t obey him. Having two predacons under his command would be a big plus on his side.”

Wheeljack hefted his weight off the stool, taking the collar with him. “I’ll scrap this junk and tell the others the news.”

“Very well, I’m going to stay here and keep her under observation for now.”

Optimus led Predaking to a rec room where the humans were not allowed, and he had also requested privacy as Predaking requested. The Predacon politely denied the energon the Prime offered.

“I cannot return to the Nemesis.” Predaking observed the obvious. “Megatron… he was going to beat her to death… he’s tried to…” he could not get the words ‘kill the younglings’ to fall from his lips. “I would have been… alone again.”

“But you are not alone. Not anymore. Ratchet is hard at work repairing Predaqueen as we speak. Though I cannot speak on her behalf, I would think she would be grateful for her rescue. You returned her to her children.”

“It is not that simple Prime, predacons are not like your kind. She called for help, and I answered her call. However, I believe that my relentless hunting of her and her constantly changing nests is my fault. I found the location of her last nest and forced her to, again, relocate, which made her vulnerable. I put her nest in _danger_, and she paid the price. I will not expect forgiveness of her. I have yet to forgive myself.”

Prime was silent for a moment.

“Perhaps you are at fault,” Predaking slouched in his seat, “But perhaps you are not. It does you no good to dwell on such thoughts. You took the first step to redemption, restoring your image in her optics. If you want her forgiveness, then perhaps it is best to earn it.”

“I will earn her forgiveness.” Predaking firmly stated, “I just have to hope that she will not attempt to kill me first. Our last encounter before now… did not end well.”

“Tell me of it.”

Optimus sat across from Predaking as he spoke. How long he had tried to find her since the discovery at the remains of the destroyed laboratory. The joy he felt when he had found the imprint of her large belly when he found out that she was carrying eggs. Optimus found it odd that Predaking was _happy_ when she savaged him the first time but didn’t comment. As Predaking spoke more and more, Optimus had the impression that Predaking was enamored with the female. It was cute.

It was like listening to an adolescent speaking to their parent about a crush. Optimus kept in mind that despite the mature demeaner Predaking had, he was still young compared to him. His life, up until this moment, was filled with harsh orders from Megatron and war.

This affection he holds for Predaqueen was not born out of the desire to please Megatron, and nor it was born to satisfy carnal instinct. Until Predaqueen, Predaking was _alone_ in the purist sense of the word. Though he was often surrounded by mechs and natives of Cybertron, he was the only member of his species, Optimus does not try to imagine what it was like to hold this knowledge for so long.

How could Optimus Prime, even with the vast knowledge of the Matrix, begin to relate? He can’t.

Predaking had held this knowledge firmly, believing that he was the only one, and that there would be no other Predacon alive after his death.

Isolation is painful.

Then, suddenly, there was _another_ Predacon like him. A being he could relate and connect to without actually meeting. And again, there were _more predacons_ after Predaqueen gave birth. This gave him a dangerous thing he was not familiar with, hope for his species. Hope for something better. This concept was something Optimus had also entertained.

Predaking wasn’t alone anymore, he just needed to _find them_, protect them. The instinctual drive, a trait found in the majority of all species, wanted him to be with his own kind.

Then Predaking talks of their last encounter. He had brought her a gift of peace, one that she had refused. She denied him, calling him a _beast_. Optimus noted how predacons did not use the word ‘faction’, and instead used the term ‘clan’.

“I brought danger to her nest, and she was right to deny me.” Predaking summarized, “I did not stay away as she told me, I was… afraid that your clan would attempt to kill her and the young. Megatron must have seen I wasn’t moving and found out where she was, he just waited for the opportunity to attack her himself.”

“You had noble intentions, and if you tell her that you had left the Decepticons, it will send a message to her. That you hold your honor higher than loyalty to the Decepticons. This will reflect positively on you in her optics.”

“I can only hope so.”

“Predaking, I must hear this from you, and only you. Do you truly intend to desert the Decepticons? Are you willing to join the Autobots or become a Neutral?”

Predaking hadn’t thought of becoming an Autobot, he did not believe the Prime would allow it. Predaking doesn’t put any processor power to the question.

“I will desert the Decepticons. However, I do not believe I have the option of becoming a Neutral after all I have done. I cannot bring myself to leave a nest unprotected.”

“You will always have a choice Predaking, but if you wish to become an Autobot, I am honored to have you.”

Predaking had opened his mouth to respond, had it not been for the vicious snarl that echoed through the base. 


	11. Nest

Ratchet had sent several inquiries to Optimus, asking if he was alright alone with Predaking, and every time he was answered that everything was fine, and Optimus had left it at that. He sighs through his vents, his nerves delating as his gaze is brought to the still slumbering Predacon on his medical berth. He increased the energon flow into the femme but still her levels did not rise any faster.

He had expected this however, with the knowledge that she was still nursing, it didn’t surprise him that energon from her main tank was being redirected into separate feeding pouches that lined her middle. It’s been two hours since he had completed her repair surgery and he keeps log of her auto repair. He had also taken the opportunity to scan her frame to aid in preparation for blue’s future surgery.

He found himself fascinated with her frame. How there were so many smaller systems and how they interacted with each other. So different from his own.

When Ratchet was still a young medical student, still learning how to use his hands and the tools he had been sparked with, his professor had taken his class to a museum and allowed his students to spend the day relaxing, walking among the bones of long dead beings that once populated Cybertron eons before the Golden Age. It was a day to spend to allow their processors to unwind after weeks of entrance exams, this day was a treat for those that had been accepted.

Within this museum held frames within climate-controlled glass cases, frames that were willingly donated to science, their chassis opened for students to marvel of what was once seen as both standard and advanced in its time. Cybertronian frames evolved much like organics did when sexual reproduction was still mainstream.

One such frame was classified as a proto-minicon, an ancestor of modern minicons, called ‘T-MO-957’, but publicly dubbed as Gypsy. His internal structure was all levers and pulleys, interlocking gears and beautifully preserved proto-flesh. It was found that Gypsy was an adult when he had perished and was given a burial fit for a high-class caste suggesting that he was an important figure. Crystals, precious jewelry, and the teeth of predacons were on display at his feet, little plaques informing everyone what these items were thought to have been used for.

Directly behind Gypsy was a massive creature, most of the bones were recreations, and if this creature was alive, it could have swallowed Gypsy like a snack. A Predacon. Not one like Predaqueen or Predaking. This one was like a massive gyro-falcon, a beak with a curved end, wings like flexible knives and talons that, even after millions of years, still held their razor-sharp edges. This Predacon was buried within the same chamber as Gypsy, a saddle strapped to its back and decorated in jewels and gifts just as the minicon was. This was irrefutable proof that, once upon a time, predacons and mechs lived a time period where both species interacted.

A stone was held above the funeral trinkets, one with an engraving that was partially translated.

It read :

_\---- fire ---- sky ---- return to the ground ---- as seeds --- grow --- shall have no other ---_

His endless curiosity brought him to seek out one of the museums staff members to inquire about the display, mentioning how strange it was to see a mech and a Predacon in one case. Had they been found on the same site? Or had they been brought together for only display purposes? The employee had stated that they had been found in the same burial site a long time before he had been sparked. This minicon had a lot of mystery behind him, as his people did not write their history, but left behind images in a far-off cavern of a great battle. Fantastic images (the ones that survived the battle of time) of minicons _riding_ predacons into battle, defending their lands from intruders.

So, how did these mechs tame a Predacon? Ratchet had asked the employee, and the employee answered.

They did not ‘tame’ predacons, the employee was a firm believer that predacons were not simple animals, and there was evidence to prove such claims. These minicons and these predacons shared the land, they formed bonds that were essential to both species for survival. In time, mechs and predacons came together, producing together that would later become a new sub-species of modern mechs, the beastformers.

The employee then pointed back to the stone. The stone was not something that would be made only for a funeral, instead, this was made for a bonding ceremony. In proto-religion, mechs would worship the planet, and predacons would worship the sky. Unions of these two entities were once seen as sacred, unions of these types would often result in triple-changers, beings of both the ground and the sky. They know that predacons of this age had the ability to transform, but they almost always died in battle, in their alt made, and so no frame in root mode of a Predacon had ever been found.

After this, the employee brought Ratchet to another chamber of the museum, one that had actually aided him in his future studies as a medical professional. This chamber was a long hallway, and the collection was an entire familial line over the course of twenty-four generations of royalty. Ratchet could see the influence of both mech and Predacon in each generation. He could see the small incremental changes of coding mixing and natural selection with each generation. How could he repair a mech if he did not know how the parts came about to begin with? This collection was a prime spot for all medics to visit, and Ratchet often found himself returning to this collection time and again.

However, this collection also brought something else to light, something he had not foreseen until he reached the fourteenth mech of the collection. The fourteenth mech was the introduction of Vector Sigma to the whole of Cybertron, when Functionalism began to take root. The variance within the next row of frame did not have such a wide range, and the last five mechs were frighteningly similar, nearly clones of their predecessor. Vector Sigma was increasing their population, but there was little difference in their frames without new CNA being donated to the next generation.

With this, mechs in history began to resent predacons and beastformers, seeing them as nothing more than talking animals, and ostracized them out of their cities and communities. In time, true predacons finally went extinct, beastformers took over the niche and remained within Cybertron's wilderness, and as more time passed, mech and beastformer could no longer reproduce together as they once did, evolved into entirely separate species. They stuck to their own and remained that way.

Ratchet glances down at the still slumbering Predaqueen.

Her levels were currently at sixty-seven and rising a full percentage every few minutes. Her pouches were also filling up and were reaching the eighty-percent marker. He suspects that once the nursing pouches reached one-hundred capacity, that energon would rise higher in her main fuel tank.

For the last hour, he noted that she would suddenly take a deep breath and release it slowly. On release, it resulted in a low, rumbling purr from her chest. Her core temperature rose another degree. It wasn’t her ignition chamber expanding, perhaps Predacon frames ran at a higher temperature?

Ratchet made note to scan Predaking if he was willing to submit to one. If he was to help Blue in future repairs, he would need all the data he could get from the adults. He needed to know the differences between a male and female Predacon, both inside and out.

Another rumbling purr escaped Predaqueen.

Ratchet spent the next hour studying the choler that had to be sawed in two segments to remove from Predaqueens’ neck. It was simple on the outside. A mostly smooth surface, but inside, it was designed to cause pain. There were prongs that dug into the sensitive cables of her neck, these prongs were designed to deliver a harsh electric shock by command via a transmitter. However, taking it apart, Ratchet had discovered that its main power source was to powerful for the wires built in. Heat from the core had melted, severing the connection and rendering the choler useless.

It was bent from Megatron, Ratchet could count the imprint of knuckles.

Another rumbling purr, a little deeper this time.

And it was holding its rumbling tune.

Ratchet twisted at the hip, his intention to look at the monitor that Predaqueen was hooked to, but instead of the Predacon laying on the berth, his optics were met with the enraged pink optics of Predaqueen towering over him. She wasn’t purring, she was _growling_.

“Wh-Ahh!”

Predaqueen lunged forward, her hand wrapping around his neck as she stood at her full height and lifted his bulk with ease. She brought him close to her face, he could feel her breath against his cheek.

“…Where am I?”

“Gak-Ha…aa…”

She frowned, setting him back on the ground, and even push a little more to leave him in an awkward half crouch.

“I will not ask again.”

Ratchet coughed, sucking in air and didn’t take his optics off the white and red Predacon. “Autobot base! Predaking brought you here for repair!”

Predaqueen then released him, letting him fall but Ratchet caught himself, taking a step back and she took a step forward. “We were there when you were captured by Megatron. How much do you remember?”

“I remember falling. I remember…” Her optics when wide, and that threating growl behind her voice was back, her hand shot out and took Ratchet by his neck again. “My children! Where are my children?!”

From his medical bay entrance, Ratchet had never been so glad to see Prime. “Predaqueen, your children are safe. We have been caring for them to the best of our abilities. Please, release Ratchet.”

Her wings clicked in agitation, she looked to have been studying Optimus, as if sizing him up. A moment went by when Ratchet was released once more. The medic fell to the ground, gasping and moving back away from the Predacon. Optimus remains firm, standing at the entrance from the medical bay.

“I am glad to see that you are awake.” Optimus glances over to the elder medic, sending a quiet message inquiring about his wellbeing, “Do you remember me? We have met once before.”

“You called yourself Optimus Prime. Yes. I remember you. You brought me a gift in peace, warned me when my nest was in danger.”

“I am glad you can recall me. How are you feeling?”

Her plating fluttered, though not in a threatening display, her body language is clear that she is unsure and untrusting of the mechs in the medical bay. “Ratchet here has been overseeing your repairs to the best of his abilities, and he has also been seeing to the recovery of your injured youngling.”

“My self-repair will see to the majority of my damage. I am well enough.”

Optimus stepped away from the entrance, “Then please, follow me and I will bring you to your children.”

The moment Optimus had sent out the message that Predaqueen was awake, aware, and on her way to the younglings, Arcee and Bumblebee were quick to scoop up the humans and say a quick ‘see you later’ to the chirping younglings. Miko had been the loudest with her protests, but Arcee kept her grip on the squirming human.

“We can’t be near them right now.” Arcee stated as a fact, “We don’t know how Predaqueen will react to us around her kids. Not to mention an entirely separate species.”

“Aw, but I want to take pictures of the reunion!”

“Not now Miko!”

There was a loud rumble from down the opposite hallway, the familiar echo of an active transformation cog, and the thunderous booms of massive peds increasing in frequency. “Let’s go.”

Optimus is not sure what had made Predaqueen transform, perhaps she scented her young before she saw them, or perhaps she heard them a fair distance away. She quickened her step, moving ahead of him, optics locked on the end of the hallway where her brood were currently located, and Optimus barely had time to make room when her bulk suddenly took over most of the hall. Her tail had almost made contact with his helm, putting a dent in the wall with her impatience made clear.

Ratchet jogged behind them, “Optimus, are you alright?”

The Autobot leader straightens, standing to his full height as he watches Predaqueen vanish through the end of the hallway and the chirping of the younglings suddenly got louder and more excited. “I am alright, old friend. Let’s leave them alone for now. They had been separated for too long.”

Miko was watching through from around the corner of the room. Her phone out and recording and Smokescreen holding her up to get a better angle. Predaqueen had emerged from the opposite side, crashing through the home-made baby-gate without a care. Her alt-mode barely fit, plating hitting the sides and even taking a small portion of the archway with her as she finally entered the playroom.

“Oh man, here it is!” Miko cheered under her breath, trying to hold her phone steady in her excitement. “Mama’s back!”

Predaqueen released a sound, something that Miko would later akin to a gentle purr, and instantly, her brood abandoned their toy and began to make a mad dash towards their carrier. Predaqueen, only needing a few steps, kept her helm low as she purred and chittered as her children began to leap on her helm and bat at her jaw and their little jaws open in miniscule squealing. Her mandibles spread, touching and inspecting each one of her children, even dipping between their plating to rid of imaginary specks of dirt. She didn’t mind, or possibly care of tiny wings hitting her face, or having tiny helms shoves themselves into her optics or her mouth.

It was a few minutes of loud noise before the younglings were finally satisfied, and Predaqueen released a loud sigh, keeping her helm low as she began to maneuverer herself to curl around her three young, almost pushing them towards her belly as she stretched out her limbs and arched her back to open the plating of her stomach. Her young followed the silent demand, eagerly shoving each other and pressing against her warmth as they finally settled down to nurse.

Predaqueen remained purring, helm resting against the floor as the sounds of loud sparklings died down and suckling took over.

Miko was almost sad when Predaqueen opened a wing and used it to blanket most of her frame, but she saved the video and gave a thumbs up to Smokescreen in a silent ‘mission accomplished’.

They left, as silently as they could, leaving the carrier to bask in the company of her young.

It became an unspoken, unofficial rule, not to enter the now claimed domain of Predaqueen and her young without the explicit permission of the carrier. Over the next two days, Optimus had made it clear to leave the Predacon’s be and allow them to bond once more, and to allow Predaqueen the time she needed to calm her spark. She is a sentient being, but Optimus knows well that she would attack first if caught off guard, and she would not ask questions later. Predaking remained within the base, keeping within audio range of Predaqueen and her young but not once had he made the attempt to contact the female or interact with them.

Jack was the one to make the first observation, following Predaking as he crept close to the hallway where Predaqueen had yet to emerge, watching him crouch low and listen intently. He couldn’t help but want to investigate this odd behavior.

“Why do you sneak around when she’s nearby?” Jack wasn’t sure how else to ask, then to ask bluntly. “I thought you two had a truce or something?”

Predaking moved his upper body slightly to the right, so much like a lizard trying to inspect something. “Truce? No. No such thing has been made. It would be an honor to form a truce with her.”

“But I thought you rescued her from Megatron, I’m pretty sure that would count as a truce.”

“I am the reason her nest was found by Megatron,” Predaking rumbled quietly, “I must wait for her to come to me. If I were to approach now, I have no doubt that I would not leave with all my limbs intact.”

“Even if you saved her?” It sounded unfair to Jack, but he doesn’t understand how predacons work.

“She called for aid and I answered.” Predaking pushed his shoulder into the corner edge of the wall, his armor rubbing up and down and leaving obvious paint transfers. “I cannot be the one to make the first step at contact.”

“So… why sneak around the nest?”

“I am making my intentions clear. I will not go near her nest or younglings without her permission, but I will not leave them defenseless. Females can be very volatile, and I am aware of how violent she can be.”

It might have been meant to serve as a warning to Jack, about female predacons, but the manner in which Predaking spoke of Predaqueen was almost as if he were _complimenting_ her. As if he was adoring the fact that she could kill him if she chose to. “So… you’re acting as a first line of defense to the nest? Is that some kind of… ritual for predacons?”

“Your line of thought is almost correct.” Predaking moved to the other side of the hall archway and giving it the same treatment of shoulder rubs and paint transfers. “I am affirming my position to defend her nest, had I been traditionally courting her, I would do so before she laid eggs. I would actually be the one to construct a nest for her. A nest large enough for us both and young. High in a mountain range and decorated with crystals, stones, precious metals and raw energon.”

Predaking suddenly went silent, there was a sharp huff of air that was unmistakably Predaqueen. The male Predacon crouched down, optics locked on the end of the hallway as he began to slowly back away from his task. Jack fallowed him, and then there was a thunderous bark that vibrated the hall that had Predaking leap into action. Briskly walking away, Jack had to run to keep up with Predaking.

Predaqueen knew he was there, and his prolonged presence was not tolerated, and she made that very clear.

When Predaking finally stopped, he was now in his own quarters, given to him by Optimus. It wasn’t decorated by any means. Nothing personal, only a recharge berth that Predaking didn’t use, and there was ash on the floor where Predaking was slightly melted a dip where the imprint of his alt-mode was clear. Predaking huffed, dropping into the center and curling his legs under him, Indian style.

“It doesn’t seem that she likes you very much.” Jack observed aloud, “…can I ask you something?”

“I find it strange that one must ask permission to ask another question, but your request is granted.”

Jack ignored the first part. “You said ‘traditionally courting her’, so does that mean you’re trying to court her in a different way?”

It was no secret that Predaking was trying, and failing, to gain her affections, if such a thing existed among Predacons. “I mean,” Jack tried again, “From what I know, Predaqueen isn’t your biggest fan, I heard she attacked you more than once before, so why do you keep trying?”

Predaking was silent for a moment. “I want you to think for a moment, pretend. You are the only member of your species left, there are no other humans on this planet, or any other planet. And suddenly, after so much time has passed, you find a second member of your species. Would you not want to bond with them? Romantically or otherwise? To just be near someone or something familiar to you?”

Now it was Jack’s turn to be silent. His brain was trying to imagine the possibility of that sort of isolation but came up short. His look of confusion must have satisfied Predaking because the dragon continued.

“I am not an Autobot, nor a Decepticon.” He spoke of those titles not as factions, but as if the titles were the names of two different species. “For a time, there was no other like myself, and then I found out about Predaqueen. I am not the last of my race, and then she laid her eggs and her young came to be. I cannot find the words that could describe my euphoria, my utter joy to know that there is hope for my race to return to their former glory. If you had been in my position, would you not do the same?”

“I… guess I understand. Not entirely, but I think I understand… so what are you going to do now? Are you going to join the team?”

“I have spoken with your Prime at length. I will not bare the Autobot emblem, but I will aid in battle against Megatron and the Decepticons. I have made myself clear with him, my loyalty will be to Predaqueen and the safety of her nest. My honor demands I offer my service to her until I am redeemed in her optics.”

Jack never figured a Predacon would think much of honor, but until only recently, he didn’t believe that a Predacon could think much at all. The more Jack thinks about it, the more he begins to liken this ancient race to what he would think of as ‘warriors of old’. Not barbarians, Predaking didn’t seem like a mech that would just attack for the sake of battle or the kill. No. Predaking carried himself proud and tall, and his actions speak for him.

When Jack went to school, he would sometimes see one of the younger students, and he would sometimes see how he would act around his crush. He would skitter away, afraid of being seen by his crush, but he would also, sometimes during lunch, hover nearby his crush, wanting to talk but terrified to do so. Predaking reminded Jack of this young man. It was blatant how Predaking seemed to adore Predaqueen, but he kept himself at a distance in fear of her wrath.

“…have you thought about how you’re going to make your first move?”

“I have said this before. I cannot attempt the first stage of contact. She must come to me.”

“I get that,” Jack made himself comfortable on the edge of the bowl, “But you also said that you needed to redeem yourself. Did you ever think that maybe _she_ wanted you to make the first move?”

The look on Predaking’s facial plates was one mixed with equal measures of surprise, horror, and confusion, his jaw almost hit the floor.

Miko had once believed Predaqueen to be many things. A dragon, wonderous and magnificent in both her size and her power. She believed Predaqueen to be a fierce warrior, protecting her children and if it meant a fight to the death, Predaqueen would step up to the challenge without a moment of hesitation. Miko believed that Predaqueen held a grace that only animals of worthy size could hold, as if seeing a whale in person seeming to fly through the ocean current.

However, once again ignoring the rules enforced by Ultra Magnus with the intent of disobeying, seeing Predaqueen had not only enforced these beliefs, but also created a new belief.

Miko now believes that Predaqueen is lazy.

The white and red plated dragon lays on her stomach plating, wings resting on the ground, dozing in a state comparable to half-recharge, aware of her immediate surroundings but ignoring them. Her children batted with the noisy ball for hours on end, and when they grew bored of that, they used their carrier as if she were their own personal jungle-gym. Crawling over her plating, biting and tugging at her paws and toes, batting at her nose and there she was in the middle of all this. Simply taking it, not even annoyed.

Carriers must have an incredibly high tolerance, because Miko is sure she would have been grounded for life if she had tried any of this with her own mother in Japan. It’s been four days since their reunion, and Predaqueen has not moved from this chamber. It made Miko wonder how often Predacons needed to fuel.

At best, from what she had witnessed with Bulkhead, he needed at least four full cubes of processed energon to remain in top form. She suspects that the others need less simply because they don’t hold the same weight as Bulkhead, but they still needed a consistent supply of energon.

Despite her desire to break another rule, as was in her nature to do so, Miko cannot bring herself to walk any closer. She doesn’t know how Predaqueen would react to her, or if she even remembered her from their brief encounter. So Miko doesn’t take the chance.

Ratchet however didn’t seem to hold the same fear, or if he did, he didn’t show it. He slowly walks into the chamber, knocking his knuckles on the wall to announce himself and make Predaqueen aware of his presence and avoid being maimed.

Predaqueen huffed, lifting only her helm from the floor and twitching her long neck towards the old medic. Her optics brightened as higher brain module functions came online. She starred at him, but otherwise did not move from her comfortable position.

Or maybe it wasn’t to dislodge her two more active younglings that were currently crawling all over her back. Her youngest, Blue, had spotted the medic, and squealed in his excitement, already making the journey from his carrier to him.

“Predaqueen,” Ratchet greeted, “I’m here to examine Blue, your injured youngling?”

She gave a sharp bark, and Blue stopped in his tracks, not yet far enough to reach the edge of her shadow. Black and Green immediately departed from her back, crawling down her leg as she finally lifted her bulk from the floor.

Her wings set themselves on their back and Predaqueen took a step forward, and her plating expanded, and rapidly shifted as she transformed into her root-mode. She was taller than Ratchet, the medic only reaching the top of her shoulder. “…” she studied him for a moment, “You have been caring for my brood?”

It was an accusation, her tone did not imply that she was displeased or offended, but instead it was one of honest curiosity. Ratchet remained firm, he did not lower his optics nor did his stance change. “Since they arrived here.” Ratchet confirmed, “I’m over seeing how his injury is healing for now. He is still to young to perform an operation on, and I cannot operate with confidence until I know more about his frame type. For now, I’ve done what I can with his hip joint, removing the melted plating and debris and I’ve made a brace for him to allow him stay active with his brothers.”

Another noise from Predaqueen, and her young all made a bee-line for Ratchet. Like bumbling puppies, the closest image that Miko could muster, the small dragons bound and pawed at his legs, begging for attention. Predaqueen steps close, her clawed servo taking a firm grip on the neck-choler of Ratchets armor. She leaned down, Ratchet sputtering as she sniffed close to his cheek plating and chevron.

“Ah, indeed. You are the one that took care of them in my absence. They all smell of you.” She leaned closer, taking in more of his scent. “…how have you been fueling them? Your scent is not like the others that have been hovering nearby.”

Predaqueen let him go, she didn’t shove him away, nor did she leave so much as a scratch. Ratchet shook it off as a ‘Predacon thing’, even though he was curious of how sensitive her olfactory senses actually were.

“I’ve been fueling them with the lowest possible grade of energon I can filter. Supplements were added, but I would think that fuel from your frame is still more beneficial to them. I tried to focus on keeping their weight steady and their internals clean.”

Predaqueen hummed, processing what he informed her, glancing down at her still begging clutch. “…I want to know the extent of my youngest’s injury. You will show me.” She released a harsh sound, her children turning on heel and jumping up to anchor themselves on her hips. Blue was picked off the ground, his braced leg hanging between her talons.

“Of course. Now that you are back in their lives, I believe his chances of a full recovery are better. If you agree to a full scan of your frame, I can begin on planning for his future surgery to fully repair his hip.”

Click! -Ca-ching!

Predaqueen’s helm snapped to the direction of the sound, and Ratchet huffed. “Miko! You know full well you are not to enter this sector without supervision! Come out! I know you’re there!”

Miko groaned, knowing she had been caught red-handed, and stepped out into the open. “…hello.”

Some hours later, and barely tolerating the seemingly endless frame scans that Ratchet had requested, Predaqueen returned back to what was designated as her private sector. However, her domain was not empty. The ignition chamber in her chassis expands, growing hot as she flares her plating and hisses.

Predaking was standing at the far end of the room. He’s immediately aware that she has returned, his frame tenses and his own plating seems to flatten against his protoform before returning to a neutral position. Predaqueen isn’t happy.

She growls low, the sound vibrating through the air and bouncing off the walls in her ire. Her wing-struts click-click-click repeatedly, a threatening display and a promise to do harm.

Still, Predaking remains absolute.

Her children flatten themselves to the floor, their sides pressing together with their youngest brother between them. Little maws open, and even smaller mandibles spread in their own attempt to appear dangerous and bigger than they actually were.

“And what are you doing here?” she seethes, Predaking does not expect any special treatment simply because he aided in her escape from Megatron, he knows full and well that such a thing is not in her nature. As of yet, he has not earned her respect, and he has much to do if he were to ever get into her good graces. “Speak now or _burn_.”

“I will make you a nest.” Predaking states as a fact, “I am aware of my transgressions, and I make it known that I no longer hold loyalty to the one designated as Megatron. To pay for my crimes, I am loyal to you and your nest.”

Her snarl wasn’t as loud, and Predaking hoped that this was a good sign. She didn’t approach any further, but her gaze seemed more critical of him. She didn’t, however, seem impressed by his declaration.

“A _nest_…” she repeated, “You think a nest will redeem yourself?”

“I do not,” Predaking admitted, keeping his optics locked with her own, “It is only the first steps that I must do to regain my lost honor.”

Predaqueen growled low, but it wasn’t a warning, but one of unspoken inquiry, and so Predaking took the chance to continue.

“I will build you a nest. One more grand than any other you have made before. This nest will be yours and yours alone. I will protect your nest, but I will not enter your nest. Your clutch will be safe as they should be, and if my first attempt does not please you, then I shall build another, more magnificent then before.” Predaqueen’s plating seems to relax by the smallest of measure. “I will fly far to gather crystals, glittering spires that will illuminate and glow. I will dig until my talons are dull and break, its basin filled with soft warm sand. Its walls will be as solid as the mountain, and the bones of predators will decorate the bottom to warn all others.”

The female hasn’t moved from her position, her gaze remains harsh and its only now that her scent is beginning to reach him. It is warm and oh so faintly sweet. It was almost _bizarre_ to him, though instinct demands that he takes a submissive gesture, whether it be lowering his gaze from her own or to reveal his neck, that he _hasn’t_ been harmed or attacked is what makes this encounter to strange to him.

His conversation with the dark haired human was almost profane, to keep his body language dominate and his stance solid in front of a female Predacon that would have little issue with _correcting_ him in the only manner that predacons knew how. His sparking is swirling with anxious dread, at any moment his life would be at risk. However, so far, nothing has happened. Perhaps he had been wrong from the start?

Predaqueen slowly flexes her talons, putting Predaking at instant awareness of her position and body language.

“If you are serious in your claim, your supposed loyalty to me, then build me a nest as grand as you say it will be. I will give you five days to complete it starting tomorrow.”

Predaking would have thanked her for her generosity, he would have bowed and finally submitted to her. However, he was not given the chance, he had stayed to long, and she was within her right to correct him. Within the time is takes to shutter his optics, she had transformed, jaws open and snarling and charged forward to drive him out of her domain and sent him running as fast as his legs could carry him.

Ratchet has been going over the frame scans of Predaqueen for the better part of three hours, and even with the aid of Wheeljack and boundless inspiration from Raf, the sheer amount of _new_ information about the Predacon species seemed _endless_.

“Look at these,” Wheeljack pointed out two side by side comparisons of Predaqueen when she arrived in the base and days after. “It’s almost like she had never been in the fight with Megatron. Look, this one is almost healed. Ratchet, did you get a sample of her repair nanites?”

“Several samples actually. They make ours look downright pitiful.”

A graph appeared on the screen, all three beings within the medical bay watched in awe as they read over the power output read-outs and real-time action of said repair nanites. “Wow, they behave like _organic cells_. Adding layers to the damage to seal any leaks and _fusing_ in place _and_ adding _more layers_?! How is this even possible?!”

“Maybe its an adaptation,” Raf theorized, “What I’ve been able to read about them, they lived in harsh environments, so their repair systems had to keep up with the constant damage they had to endure. I’m sure they didn’t have medics back in those days.”

“It’s entirely possible.” Wheeljack agreed, “They take up a lot of energy though, I don’t think a diet of only raw energon would be enough. It takes a lot of power just to break down and filter raw energon crystals.”

“Hence the _four_ fuel systems.” Ratchet stated, optics not leaving the screen. The medical student in him was simply giddy at the challenge of learning a new frame type. “She uses almost everything that she takes in. Energon crystals, raw materials… she may take in more fuel than a standard mech of Bulkheads size but she can go far longer without it.”

“Can you imagine what would happen if we introduced these repair nanites to a standard mech?”

And with that question, Raf, Wheeljack and Ratchet were not seen again until much later in the day.


	12. To Hunt

The energon stores are beginning to dwindle, and once again, their rations had been cut in half to make what little they had last as long as possible. Smokescreen isn’t a stranger to rationing, sometimes going a few days between fueling when times were harder than others. He had shut down non-essential systems, his battle protocols and weapons currently offline to conserve power while in the base. He often wishes that crystals would grow like the plants that humans eat, if it meant being able to fuel on a daily basis, he would entertain such a concept until the end of the day.

During these times, Bulkhead spends more time recharging. Being the heaviest mech on the Autobot team, his frame is loaded with more weapon systems that take more power than a standard mech even if his weapon systems are offline as they are molded almost directly to his protoform. As is such cases with ‘war-born’ mechs.

Smokescreen slowly releases air through his mouth, watching as Arcee watches the screen for possible Decepticon activity, and more importantly, a possible energon source that wouldn’t require a raid. They simply don’t have the fuel for it. Leaning against the wall, the base peaceful and mostly quiet, he powers down his optics and sends himself into a light stage of recharge, taking Bulkheads example.

Energon.

The true lifeblood of all Cybertronian life. It is food, fuel, blood and electricity combined into a single substance that is found in various forms. Most commonly found on Cybertron in the form of ore. During the Golden Age, energon was mined from deep within the planet, and imported from the two moons of Cybertron to fuel its ever-hungry population. When found in ore, energon is not pure, as pure energon is not only extremely rare with four confirmed discoveries in the whole documented history of Cybertron, but pure energon is also considered one of the most dangerous substances within their region of space.

Pure Energon can be compared to explosive acid. If a mech were to ingest pure energon regardless of what form it took, be it solid, crystal or gas, it would immediately eat through the fuel pump, fracture the spark, and damage the brain module to such a state the mech would die within forty-seconds of ingestion. This end-result is unavoidable, and the more merciful death would involve the mech ingesting pure energon melting from the inside and combusting the moment this pure substance touches the impure energon still within his fuel tank.

It is said that Pure Energon is the lifeblood of Primus himself, the spots found were made during his battle with Unicron.

The ore is mined and brought to a forge to be remade and compressed into solid cubes, which are then sold to create various other forms of energon. The most common use of energon, of course, was in its liquid state to be ingested as ‘food’ for Cybertronians. It could be tempered back into solid, or semi-solid and various elements could be added to alter its taste, its presentation, or is beneficial use. It could be flash-frozen and shaved, mixed with zinc to increase the sweet taste and further decorated with rust-powder or other basics to make a treat that Ratchet would love to have once more. The Cybertronian equivalent to ‘ice-cream’ or ‘shaved-ice’.

When boron is added, liquid energon reacts and becomes a semi-solid. Soft and squishy to the touch which can be melted down into molds and ornamented. This wasn’t commonly found in shops, as this method of consumption was normally reserved for festivals or celebrations.

Despite what other alien species may believe, Cybertronians do not have a strict liquid diet of energon. Liquid energon is the cheapest form sold to the masses, and therefore the most popular.

Another commonly found form of energon is used almost exclusively by all levels of medics and doctors.

Medical grade energon.

Medical grade energon, due to its high levels of repair nanites introduced with carbon, oxygen, and tempered over a longer period in a forge, has a light green color, and an infamously bitter taste. During more invasive repairs, medical grade is filtered into the frame, new repair nanites still holding a high charge and high activity rate, aid doctors in repairing an injured mech from the inside. Fixing microscopic tears in energon lines to delicate for any type of repair, forming blockages to slow the rate of energon loss and aiding in keeping the spark in rotation with additional charge. However, it is not without its drawbacks.

Medical grade, if consumed in high volumes, can leave a mech with what is commonly called a ‘charge addiction’. Their frames and processors desire the higher charge given off by the repair nanites, these desires form central processing errors within the brain module. A mech might be fully repaired, fully fueled, but he will feel sluggish and jittery. Errors clash and can impair motor functions and thought processes. If medical grade can’t be found, they will find other ways to achieve this higher charge. Circuit boosters and Syk being the most common alternatives.

Therefore, before a mech is brought online after surgery, there is a period of time when the medical grade is drained slowly to avoid sending the frame into shock from going from a high charge, to jumping to a low charge.

There were strict laws involving the use of medical grade in every hospital.

Another common form of energon is in a crystallized state. It, like ore, can be mined and reformed, but the amount of crystals reformed, compared to the amount of consumable energon at the end of the process make it an uneconomical method of energon production. Only forty-percent of a crystal can be transformed into energon. This method of energon extraction is slow, slowly increasing the heat in a pressurized furnace ‘sweats’ the crystal, the energon stronger, it is the Cybertronian equivalent of an aged liquor. Therefore, there was a high demand for this brand of energon, but there was always a low supply as only certain species of crystal can be tempered with this method. Most other crystals were used as purely decorative pieces, and larger locations of crystals became tourist attractions.

Which resulted in the Praxian Crystal Garden in Cybertron's Golden Age.

Scholars of the Golden age theorized that modern mecha populations boomed when it was found they could intake energon in its liquid form. The liquid state offered a higher, immediate charge, allowing them to farm more, and slowly take over the population of predacons that still relied on locating and devouring its crystal form. It was another theory of why the Predacon species went extinct, perhaps they starved to death once crystal energon was taken and transformed into a state of energy they didn’t know.

Energon is still, no matter what form it’s found, the lifeblood of Cybertronians, and in war, it didn’t matter what form it was found. It only mattered that it was _found_. There’s only a few precious gallons of medical grade energon, and maybe if they enacted stricter rationing, another weeks’ worth of liquid energon. Maybe.

They won’t survive like this.

Ratchet has already had a meeting with Optimus and Ultra Magnus. They don’t have the reserves for a raid, and if they did, even Ratchet would not be able to repair any damage that came with battle. So, Ratchet volunteered himself to do the unthinkable.

Ask Predaqueen is she would be willing to help them, which brings him to the situation that he’s in now. Standing before a massive Predacon that looks down upon him as predator would its prey. As usual, Predaqueen is resting on her belly, her three children currently curled up in the bowl of her arms in recharge.

He must be careful.

“Predaqueen, a moment of your time?”

Her helm stretched up and over, closer to him as she slowly bobbed her long head to confirm his request. Ratchet is relieved.

“We need energon.” Though it was a matter of survival, there was still a slight burn of shame in Ratchet for admitting it. “We’ve been rationing our reserves at much as we possibly can, but now… we’re starving. I am asking for your help.”

Predaqueen pulls her helm back, keeping her gaze on the elder medic. She had known that these creatures did not fuel much, but she had believed this was simply one of the quirks of being a mech and not a Predacon like herself. The activity in the base lessened with each day, not including the endless noise made by Predaking as he was still hard at work with his task. He’s been working for the past three days, and he still has two days to complete his task.

Predaqueen glances at her own levels, which had been getting lower and lower with each passing day. Now, her levels read out as fifty-three percent, and she only had enough energon in her system to nurse her clutch maybe once or twice before she would be required to hunt for more fuel.

Then, her thoughts were, once again, brought to the mech before her. This clan, if she could call them a clan, was small, though they were strong in battle, they shared the hardship of starvation together equally. They did not have the skills to find deeply buried energon as he admitted, their tools and natural frames did not allow it.

Predaqueen recognizes that she needs to earn her place within this clan, the same clan that both protected her clutch and aided in repairing the damage to her youngest member. She is required to earn her keep.

Ratchet opened his mouth, maybe to say something further to encourage her to help but was not given the chance when Predaqueen performed a low vibration that woke her brood from their nap. Another rattle of her plating, and a high-pitched noise, and her children obediently moved from their carrier’s frame and pawed Ratchets legs and pressed against him.

Predaqueen transformed, out of habit, she surveyed the room for possible dangers despite there not being any. “How much do you need? And when do I begin my hunt?”

“As much as you are able,” Ratchet stated, lifting blue from the ground as his brothers kept close on the ground, “And as soon as possible.”

“Then I will leave immediately.”

Ratchet was taken aback, surprised by the ease Predaqueen had accepted his request, but almost instantly wary. “You’re actually going to find energon for us?”

Predaqueen huffed but took the step forward to what she knows as the main hub. “I have taken a space of your clan nesting ground; does that not make me apart of this small clan? You work on healing my child, so I am obligated to earn my keep, even if it is as simple as finding fuel. You will take charge of protecting my clutch until I return. I will gather all that I am able.”

“Optimus will accompany you.”

“So long as he does not slow me down or get in my way.”

Predaking had spoken with both Optimus and Ultra Magnus minutes after speaking with Predaqueen three days prior, and his request to acquire an unused space and his explanation of his task to construct a nest, was given a hanger space that was once used to house human vehicles but now sat empty and useless to the Autobots currently.

He ignored the loud rambling of ‘protocol this’ and ‘against section that’ of Ultra Magnus, even going so far as to mock charge him out of the chamber. Predaking didn’t want the scent of another mature male, even from another species, to linger within the nest. In three days, he had successfully completed the main structure of the nest. Its walls were solid, high enough that the hatchlings could not escape, but Predaqueen could come and go as she pleased. So now, today on the fourth day of his task, he needs to work hard in adorning the nest to the best of his abilities. After speaking with Optimus, he was recommended to then speak to Ratchet.

Predaking submitted to having a small device attached to his underplating, this device will essentially hide his signal from the Decepticons, including Soundwave himself. However, this also served to track him while in or out of the base, and his frame readouts would be fed directly to Ratchet to observe his general health.

There are no such things like this aboard the Nemesis, Predaking had informed. It was every mech for themselves.

However, among the Autobots, it was customary to inquire about the health and wellbeing of one another. Smokescreen, the youngest Autobot, was also the most curious among them. He was followed by the _smallest creature_ that Predaking had ever seen. This human introduced himself as Rafael, and he was ‘of normal height for his age’ but Predaking still has his doubts.

Smokescreen is still a youngling, so Predaking doesn’t give much effort into chasing him away.

“…so this is a nest?”

“Correct.”

Raf leans over the edge of the nest, seeing the large space it held and how smooth the walls were after being melted and compressed several times. “Why build a nest?” Raf questioned, genuinely interested, “I thought Predaqueen was staying in the other hanger.”

“Hatchlings are curious things, and its for their safety and protection that they remain in a nest until their wings are able to carry them in the air. Do humans not make a nest for their young?”

“Not really.” Raf gave it thought, “Well, not a ‘nest’ like this. We put human infants that are still learning to crawl and walk in what we call play pens or cribs. It’s like a nest, only smaller, some can be folded up to travel with and are padded so they don’t get hurt.”

Predaking hummed, moving low to the ground as he checked the top edges of the nest for are slight imperfections that would be immediately corrected. Smokescreen watches in mild interest. “So what’s the next step?”

“I must travel outside of the base and gather as many crystals and gems as I can carry. The larger crystals I find, the more impressive the nest will be.”

Raf thought about the stories of dragons he had grown up hearing about. Massive reptilian beasts that collected vast amounts of treasure and guarded it with a jealous love. The dragons of these stories were always depicted as monsters, greed made flesh. However, this image didn’t seem to fit the descriptions of Predaqueen he had only caught passing glances.

So, he thought about his own mother.

The thought that came to mind was how his father had saved up enough money to buy his mother a new diamond ring, and one night at the dinner table, had dropped down to one knee and asked to renew their wedding vows.

Females, no matter the species, seemed to have a strange love for precious gemstones and metals. ‘Well, at least my mom does.’ Raf thought to himself. And she had, Raf remembers her starting to cry when his father took the knee, in front of all his siblings and some extended family that knew about the surprise.

“Are crystals like a status symbol? The more you have the more successful you are?”

Predaking paused, “In a way I suppose. It does serve as a status symbol, but it also serves as a warning to other competitors.”

“Other competitors?” Smokescreen echoed, curiosity peaked, “What other competitors? Are there more predacons on the Nemesis?”

“If there are, I do not know of them. To others seeking the attention of a female, the more crystals added to a protected nest tells a story. Not only do I have the energy to survive, I have the energy to thrive, find and collect gems and glittering spires deep within the planet. It tells others that I am healthy, primed for battle, and that the female may be spoken for.”

With her brood safely, and literally, attached to the hip of the medic, Predaqueen takes her place before the ground bridge. As Ratchet began to prepare coordinates, Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus enters the main hub.

Optimus stands at her side, approaching her from the side. “I’m sending you to a spot you’ve hunted previously. Perhaps there is still a pocket of energon in the area.” Ratchet announced, adjusting Blue in his hand as his other worked the console. The youngling was very interested in the flashing glyphs. “Optimus will accompany you as support. Ultra Magnus will be on standby should you encounter any Decepticon activity.”

Predaqueen rumbles low in confirmation. She understands that Optimus cannot fly, and the more she thinks about it, the more she knows that the grounder would simply slow her down. He is not fueled properly and has not fueled in several days. Even from a few feet away, she can feel his systems strain.

Optimus is a liability on a hunt and this thought is aggravating.

It is not his fault that he cannot fly or that he is starving, so her processor comes up with a single solution to ensure he doesn’t get left behind.

“Open the bridge Ratchet.”

“Opening in three… two…”

There was a flash of blue light that quickly bled to green, the ring of metal held a swirling vortex and Optimus took the first steps forward and through the gate. She moves forward close behind him.

For a moment, she enjoys the feeling of the sun beating down on her plating. The subtle hot breeze and the scent of the outside world. The endless dry sands and the clear blue sky is comforting after being underground for days straight.

She inhales, systems priming to locate and dig out energon. “Don’t bother changing. You’re to slow, we need to cover a vast distance. Either you hold on tight or you fall.”

Predaqueen doesn’t give him a chance to question her. She flares her plating and transforms into her alt mode. Standing tall, her helm dips down upon him and using her mandibles, plucks him off the ground using his underarms. Optimus sputtered, legs kicking minutely and arms wind milling. She deposits him on her back between her wings and shoulders.

She only gives him a few precious moments to anchor himself. His thighs clutch tight, his hands fumble for a second to find sections of plating for his fingers to curl under. Predaqueen opens her wings, beating them once slowly to test and see if Optimus’s limbs would be a hindrance and he adjusted himself accordingly.

Predaqueen huffs, and begins to walk forward a few steps, and then into a gallop to gain the speed necessary for the initial take off. She runs towards a small hill, the highest point on the landscape within reasonable distance, and using her hindlegs, leaps into the air with beating wings.

On her back, Optimus keeps his frame pressed against her frame. The wind buffets against his plating, the sun beating down was hot, but the air was cool as they soared over the land. It wasn’t like flying in a ship, secure in a seat or knowledgeable in where they were headed. On the back of Predaqueen, there was a moment of instinctual fear.

A fear of heights, a fear of being so far from the ground in which he calls ‘home’ in the sense of where it felt right, to have something solid under his peds and his wheels. This feeling is natural among ground-based alts, they do not have wings or methods of propulsion. However, this fear fizzled away, and a new sensation filled his being.

He might call this sensation ‘freedom’, but he finds it more akin to the feeling of ‘simply being’. He doesn’t feel a rush through his lines, nor does his plating tingle. The wind is soothing, the heated form of Predaqueen is solid and warm like the ground below them.

He could describe this new feeling more as ‘relaxing’, even enjoyable.

It was no wonder why Seekers and sky-mechs were so at home in being in the air. The air was ‘home’ to them as the ground was ‘home’ to him.

No words are exchanged between them, Predaqueen cannot speak while in alt-mode. She tolerated the tracking chip at best but drew the line when Ultra Magnus suggested adding a communications device. She saw it as ‘unnatural’.

It wasn’t until almost an hour of flying in this direction and that direction, did she finally begin to descend. Her plating rippled, and her frame curved as Predaqueen began to fly in a wide circle and decelerate. With a few beats of her wings, her hind legs hit the ground before her front. Wings folding, she continues to investigate the ground in a strange manner that Optimus had not seen in any other creature native to Cybertron.

Her helm was pointed downwards, her mandibles spread wide and her optics were shuttered. In regular intervals, he could feel the echoes of faint sonar bouncing off him. She would linger in one place for a moment, prompting more sonar echoes before moving on once more.

Then she found a place she kept returning to. An unassuming flat piece of land, dirt, rocks, various few plant life that Optimus would have driven by without a second thought, in short, nothing remarkable.

At least on the surface.  
During a hunt, she does not rely on her optics, nor does she ‘scent’ energon from the sky as so many would believe, at least, not in the traditional sense of ‘scenting’. Scenting is normally the collection of air particles that are associated with a specific object or being, like the smell of water or the smell of flowers. These scents are cataloged in the processors, the data is stored away and brought to the surface once the scent is encountered again. This is, mostly, how an organic creature can remember the smell of a meal or remember the smell of a predator.

In the framework of a predacon, scenting for energon underground does not involve the olfactory senses. Instead, it is highly specialized sensors behind their mandibles that line their inner jaws. In the female predacon, there is a notably larger organ found in both sexes. A cluster of sensors, comparable to a Geiger-mueller detector, programmed to detect the _slight_ beta radiation that energon crystals give off if the crystal is within forty-feet from the surface. The male predacon can only detect these waves if the crystals are within twenty-five feet from the surface.

It was here that she began to dig. Using massive talons, she scrapped away the first layer of dirt, and hurled large rocks without care of where they would land. Optimus wondered if she remembered that he was on her back.

A beat of her wings would clear the immediate area of dust and loose dirt, and she would continue digging. The scent of energon wafted with a beat of her wings, and Optimus has the swallow the oral fluids that had immediately begun to pool in his mouth.

He leans to the side, seeing a large chunk of raw energon that Predaqueen was digging around, keeping it intact. More dirt removed, more rocks hurled and another beat of her wings to cleat the dust. It steadily grew larger and larger.

Smaller crystals were eaten. Rocks thrown and dirt moved aside. Predaqueen worked quick, and using the mass of her upper body, she pushed the largest crystal free from its root. It fell with an echo, a testament to its weight and bounty. Hooking her talons on it, Predaqueen used her back legs to heave it out of the hole in the ground, now Optimus could see just how large it was. Taller than he was, and as thick as Predaqueens midsection, the fuel, once liquified could last them weeks, even months if rationed.

The long helm of the Predacon turned to him with a huff and patting the energon. “Ratchet.” Optimus states aloud over the communication link, “Please open the ground bridge. Our mission was successful.”

Bulkhead had been woken out of his recharge on the orders of Ultra Magnus, he was to report to the bridge immediately. His joints groaning, he takes a moment to allow his processors to catch up and he dismisses the ever-present low fuel warnings in his Hud. At times like this, he couldn’t appreciate his large frame type. Even when the base was on emergency rationing, his rations were larger than the others and he couldn’t help but feel guilty from taking more fuel when there was none to give. When he wasn’t on duty, he would force his frame into recharge as much as possible.

For his frame type, recharging so much could potentially damage his fuel-pump, the energon processing slowing down and impurities settle where it shouldn’t, and Ratchet would force him to consume corrostop, a disgustingly bitter medicine but a required one to keep his fuel pump clean and functional.

Stepping away from his berth and out into the hallway, he made long strides to arrive at the bridge as ordered. Bulkhead felt as if he should have reported to Ratchet to get his fuel pump checked, because the hind end of Predaqueen was the first thing that came from the ground bridge.

It was unnatural to watch the predacon walk backwards on the ramp. Like some sort of strange comedy script, but there was no laugh track like there were on the television shows he would watch with Miko during his off-duty hours. Predaqueen moved with long stretches of her back legs, her feet stomping the ground to ensure a solid grip o the ground with spread out toes and her tail would make wide swings to counter her own weight.

Then the helm of his Prime poked through the vortex. “Straight back Predaqueen, you have clearance. Everyone, stay back until we clear the ramp.”

Another stomp and Bulkhead could hear her systems work hard to pull the weight of whatever it was she was dragging back with every step.

Then Predaqueen’s front half came through the bridge, Optimus continuing to guide her back over the remaining distance of the ramp. Bulkheads optics lit up at the sight of a massive cluster of crystal, and just as she finally cleared the vortex, Ultra Magnus arrived with the remaining Autobot team members.

The cluster was simply massive, taller and thicker than Bulkhead himself, he could hear the others behind him in awe of the amount of energon that would be extracted. Of course, they would ration it, but the rations would no longer be the bare minimum to function.

Predaqueen heaved the crystals, using her front claws anchored in the crystals to drag it back using her own body weight. When it was clear of the ramp, Ratchet disabled the bridge and left the console to see the energon from above. Optimus quickly dismounted from her back, sliding over her shoulder and avoiding hitting any part of her wings.

“This is-” Ratchet smiled wide, his hands itching to reach out and touch the fuel, just to check and see if it were real. “This is incredible.”

Predaqueen rumbled, though it was not a direct acknowledgment, it also wasn’t threatening. She also doesn’t acknowledge the others in the room, instead, her neck arches up and thrusts her helm down on a stalk of crystal and tear it loose. Ultra Magnus had stepped forward, his mouth opening to reprimand her, but Optimus was there to stop him before he could complete his first step. “Indeed Ratchet.”

The look Optimus gives the Magnus speaks clearly, not another word. So Ultra opens a private link to his leader.

‘_Sir. That energon needs to be processed.’_

_‘Predaqueen does not ingest liquid fuel as we do. We asked her to aid us in finding fuel, and she has completed our request. She is within her rights to take a portion for herself. It would be unwise to appear ungrateful. We will need her in the future._’

Ultra Magnus says no more, only watching as Predaqueen makes short work of the crystal. Breaking it into small pieces in her mouth, lifting her helm and letting gravity drop it down her long neck. Ratchet approaches, Ultra Magnus had turned away to speak with Bulkhead and Wheeljack on breaking down the crystal into smaller pieces to fill the carts Arcee and Smokescreen had brought from the right hallway.

The younglings had remained with Ratchet, Blue waved his helm from side to side as he watched his carrier chew the energon, even mimicking her but slowly moving his jaws open and close, spreading uncoordinated mandibles and clicking.

Predaqueen made no attempt to interact with Bulkhead or Ultra Magnus, stepping past them towards Ratchet. Her children crawled back to their carrier, and Ratchet held Blue and observed as his brothers took their place beneath the safety of her mass. He didn’t protest when Blue wriggled in his grasp and crouched down to allow him to join his brothers.

Blue moved with purpose, having to lift his injured leg in the brace a little higher than his other legs and sang a low note when he joined his brothers. The small family unit moves on from the command center, keeping in the shadow of their carrier.

“She really did that?” Miko asked, unsure of what she was hearing when Bulkhead remained on the task in aiding in the processing stage of making energon. “That was really cool of her.”

“It was.” Bulkhead agreed, sliding another measurement of crystal in the grinder. “She didn’t take that long to find it either, maybe… two or three hours? Four? I was recharging when they left.”

“Wow… but I thought cybertronian’s couldn’t find energon unless it was on the surface?” Miko could only recall a brief conversation about it, but she regretfully admits to herself she had quickly lost interest once Ratchet and Raf began talking about the math to find them. Math made her feel itchy.

“Well, from what I understand, we lost that ability somewhere in our evolutionary line. I know some beastformers that were able to locate some back on Cybertron, they didn’t live in the cities and kept to the wildlands. Beastformers really knew how to brew a good grade of energon.” 

“Cybertron had forests? Like on earth? I thought your planet was like a giant city.”

“And most organic species do.” Bulkhead admits, “But Cybertron is a lot like earth actually. We have cities, canyons, little towns here and there, the Helex Mountain range and a mithril sea. We even have a desert, we called it the Rust sea. The wildlands were made up of naturally forming boron-crystal trees, it was a beautiful place when I visited.”

“Crystal trees? That sounds amazing. What else is there?”

Bulkhead spoke of many things, reveling in the memories of Cybertron before the war. Mountains on Cybertron were not like mountains on earth, they grew in a massive spiral formation. Plant life that glowed in the dark, entire fields of electrical flowers that would glow brighter if sound was introduced near them and metallic trees that budded crystals that glittered in the light of Cybetrons twin suns. He spoke of the Praxian Crystal Gardens, the pride and joy of Praxus. A massive crystal preserve, a stunning sight to behold and for the Praxian residence, was also a naturally forming orchestra. Their door-wings had the necessary sensors to ‘hear’ the crystals ‘sing’.

The Mithril sea, not water and described as a glittering milky substance, also held an abundance of life. Under its churning waves held more communities of another subspecies of beastformers that evolved to life under its waters, seaside townships and harbors also held cybertronian’s with water-based alt-modes and would always come back with stories of what they saw out at sea. Fantastic creatures that grew so large the had their own ecosystems growing on their backs.

The Rust sea was a desert, one that never saw the nighttime as one of the two suns would constantly beat down on it. The evaporation from the mithril sea kept this area hot and humid, rust growing from the metal surface and it would slowly grow. Some mechs believed that it would one day engulf their whole planet.

It was an alien world to Miko, but she didn’t interrupt the large green mech as he spoke of his home planet. Though bizarre, and some concepts sounded downright impossible to Miko, coming from Bulkhead, it sounded beautiful.


End file.
